OU-~ 


P  2-V 


- 


WILEY  AND  PUTNAM'S 

LIBRARY  OF 

CHOICE    READING 


SARTOR    RESARTUS. 


SARTOR    RESARTUS 


THE 


LIFE     AND    OPINIONS 


/far    o( 

OF 


HERR     TEUFELSDROCKH 


IN  THREE  BOOKS. 


SQJetn  QScrm&djtnip,  »te  foerrtid)  weil  unt>  Orcit! 
*Dic  3tftt  ift  mctn  S3ctmacl)tntp,  mcin  2Ccfcr  t ft  fcie  3cit. 


NEW  YORK : 
WILEY  AND  PUTNAM,  161  BROADWAY. 

1846. 


IMPRIMATUR. 

This  Book,  "Sartor  Resartus,"  I  have  read  over  and  revised  into 
a  correct  state  for  Messrs.  Wiley  &  Putnam,  of  New  York,  who  are 
hereby  authorised,  they  and  they  only,  so  far  as  I  can  authorise  them, 
to  print  and  vend  the  same  in  the  United  States. 

x3S^S^^9    THOMAS   CARLYLE. 

London,  June  18.  1846.  ^ 


O.    A.    ALVORU,    PRINTER,  T.  B.  SMITH,  STEREOTYPKR, 

COR.  JOHN  AND  DUTCH  8TS.  316  WILLIAM   STREET. 


TESTIMONIES    OF    AUTHORS. 


Taster  to  Bookseller. — "  The  Author  of  Teufelsdrookh  is  a  person  of  talent ; 
his  work  displays  here  and  there  some  felicity  of  thought  and  expression, 
considerable  fancy  and  knowledge :  but  whether  or  not  it  would  take  with 
the  public  seems  doubtful.  For  ajeu  d> esprit  of  that  kind,  it  is  too  long ;  it 
would  have  suited  better  as  an  essay  or  article  than  as  a  volume.  The 
Author  has  no  great  tact :  his  wit  is  frequently  heavy  ;  and  reminds  one  of 
the  German  Baron  who  took  to  leaping  on  tables,  and  answered  that  he  was 
learning  to  be  lively.     Is  the  work  a  translation  V 

Bookseller  to  Editor. — u  Allow  me  to  say  that  such  a  writer  requires  only 
a  little  more  tact  to  produce  a  popular  as  well  as  an  able  work.  .  Directly 
on  receiving  your  permission,  I  sent  your  MS.  to  a  gentleman  in  the  highest 
class  of  men  of  letters,  and  an  accomplished  German  scholar ;  I  now  enclose 
you  his  opinion,  which,  you  may  rely  upon  it,  is  a  just  one ;  and  I  have  too 
high  an  opinion  of  your  good  sense  to"  &c.  &c. — MS.  (penes  nos),  London, 
llth  September,  1831. 

II.  Critic  of  the  Sun. 

"Fraser's  Magazine  exhibits  the  usual  brilliancy,  and  also  the"  &c. 
"  Sartor  Resartus  is  what  old  Dennis  used  to  call  l  a  heap  of  clotted  non- 
sense,' mixed,  however,  here  and  there,  with  passages  marked  by  thought 
and  striking  poetic  vigour.  But  what  does  the  writer  mean  by  'Baphometic 
fire-baptism  V  Why  cannot  he  lay  aside  his  pedantry,  and  write  so  as  to 
make  himself  generally  intelligible  1  We  quote  by  way  of  curiosity  a  sen- 
tence from  the  Sartor  Resartus;  which  may  be  read  either  backwards  or 
forwards,  for  it  is  equally  intelligible  either  way.  Indeed,  by  beginning  at 
the  tail,  and  so  working  up  to  the  head,  we  think  the  reader  will  stand  the 
fairest  chance  of  getting  at  its  meaning  :  c  The  fire-baptised  soul,  long  so 
scathed  and  thunder-riven,  here  feels  its  own  freedom ;  which  feeling  is  its 
Baphometic  baptism  :  the  citadel  of  its  whole  kingdom  it  has  thus  gained 
by  assault,  and  will  keep  inexpugnable  :  outwards  from  which  the  remain- 
ing dominions,  not  indeed  without  hard  battering,  will  doubtless  by  degrees 
be  conquered  and  pacificated.'  Here  is  a" —  ....  — Sim  Newspaper,  1st 
April,  1834. 


TESTIMONIES   OF   AUTHORS. 


III.  North  American  Reviewer. 

.  .  .  .  c:  After  a  careful  survey  of  the  whole  ground,  our  belief  is  that 
no  such  persons  as  Professor  Teufelsdrockh  or  Counsellor  Heuschrecke 
ever  existed ;  that  the  six  Paper-bags,  with  their  China-ink  inscriptions  and 
multifarious  contents,  are  a  mere  figment  of  the  brain ;  that  the  'present 
Editor7  is  the  only  person  who  has  ever  written  upon  the  Philosophy  of 
Clothes  :  and  that  the  Sartor  Resartus  is  the  only  treatise  that  has  yet  ap- 
peared upon  that  subject; — in  short,  that  the  whole  account  of  the  origin 
of  the  work  before  us,  which  the  supposed  Editor  relates  with  so  much 
gravity,  and  of  which  we  have  given  a  brief  abstract,  is,  in  plain  English, 
a  hum. 

u  Without  troubling  our  readers  at  any  great  length  with  our  reasons  for 
entertaining  these  suspicions,  we  may  remark,  that  the  absence  of  all  other 
information  on  the  subject,  except  what  is  contained  in  the  work,  is  itself  a 
fact  of  a  most  significant  character.  The  whole  German  press,  as  well  as 
the  particular  one  where  the  work  purports  to  have  been  printed,  seems 
to  be  under  the  control  of  Stillschweigen  and  Cosnie-^ — Silence  and  Com- 
pany. If  the  Clothes-Philosophy  and  its  Author  are  making  so  great  a 
sensation  throughout  Germany  as  is  pretended,  how  happens  it  that  the 
only  notice  we  have  of  the  fact  is  contained  in  a  few  numbers  of  a  monthly 
Magazine,  published  at  London?  How  happens  it  that  no  intelligence 
about  the  matter  has  come  out  directly  to  this  country  ?  We  pique  our- 
selves here  in  New  England  upon  knowing  at  least  as  much  of  what  is  going 
on  in  the  literary  way  in  the  old  Dutch  Mother-land  as  our  brethren  of  the 
fast-anchored  Isle ;  but  thus  far  we  have  no  tidings  whatever  of  the  '  exten- 
sive close-printed  close-meditated  volume,'  which  forms  the  subject  of  this 
pretended  commentary.  Again,  we  would  respectfully  inquire  of  the  -pre- 
sent Editor'  upon  what  part  of  the  map  of  Germany  are  we  to  look  for  the 
city  of  WassmchtmOj — '  Know-not-whcrc.;  at  which  place  the  work  is  sup- 
posed  to  have  been  printed  and  the  Author  to  have  resided.  It  has  been 
oar  fortune  to  visit  several  portions  of  the  German  territory,  and  to  ex- 
amine  pretty  carefully,  at  different  times  and  for  various  purposes,  maps  of 
the  whole  ;  but  we  have  no  recollection  of  any  such  place.  We  suspect  that 
the  city  of  Know-not-rohere  might  be  (-ailed,  with  at  least  as  much  propriety. 
Nobody-knoros-nherei  and  is  to  be  found  in  the  kingdom  of  Nowhere,  Again, 
the  village  of  Ent> pfulrf. — '  Duck-pond,'  where  the  supposed  Author  of  the 
work  is  said  to  have  passed  his  youth,  and  that  of  Hinterschiagj  where  he 
had  his  education,  are  equally  foreign  to  our  geography.  Duck-ponds 
enough  there  undoubtedly  are  in  almost  every  village  in  Germany,  as  the 
traveller  in  that  country  knows  too  well  to  his  cost,  but  any  particular  vil- 
snominated  Duok-pond  is  to  us  altogether  terra  incognita.  The  names 
of  the  personages  are  not  Less  singular  than  those  of  the  places.  Who  can 
refrain  from  a  smile  ,,t  the  yoking  together  of  such  a  pair  of  appellatives  as 


TESTIMONIES   OF   AUTHORS. 


Diogenes  Teufelsdrockh  ?  The  supposed  bearer  of  this  strange  title  is  re- 
presented as  admitting  in  his  pretended  autobiography,  that  'he  had 
searched  to  no  purpose  through  all  the  Heralds'  books  in  and  without  the 
German  empire,  and  through  all  manner  of  SubscribersMists,  Militia-rolls, 
and  other  Name-catalogues,'  but  had  nowhere  been  able  to  find  '  the  name 
Teufelsdrockh,  except  as  appended  to  his  own  person.'  We  can  readily  be- 
lieve this,  and  we  doubt  very  much  whether  any  Christian  parent  would 
think  of  condemning  a  son  to  carry  through  life  the  burden  of  so  unpleasant 
a  title.  That  of  Counsellor  Heuschrecke, — Grasshopper,  though  not  of- 
fensive, looks  much  more  like  a  piece  of  fancy-work  than  a  '  fair  business 
transaction.'  The  same  may  be  said  of  Bhemme, — Flower  Goddess,  the  he- 
roine of  the  fable,  and  so  of  the  rest. 

"  In  short,  our  private  opinion  is,  as  we  have  remarked,  that  the  whole 
story  of  a  correspondence  with  Germany,  a  university  of  Nobody-knows- 
where,  a  Professor  of  Things  in  General,  a  Counsellor  Grasshopper,  a 
Flower-Goddess  Blumine,  and  so  forth,  has  about  as  much  foundation  in 
truth,  as  the  late  entertaining  account  of  Sir  John  Herschel's  discoveries  in 
the  moon.  Fictions  of  this  kind  are,  however,  not  uncommon,  and  ought 
not,  perhaps,  to  be  condemned  with  too  much  severity  ;  but  we  are  not  sure 
that  we  can  exercise  the  same  indulgence  in  regard  to  the  attempt  which 
seems  to  be  made  to  mislead  the  public  as  to  the  substance  of  the  work  be- 
fore us,  and  its  pretended  German  original.  Both  purport,  as  we  have 
seen,  to  be  upon  the  subject  of  Clothes,  or  dress.  Clothes,  their  Origin  and 
Influence,  is  the  title  of  the  supposed  German  treatise  of  Professor  Teufels- 
drockh, and  the  rather  odd  name  of  Sartor  Resartus, — the  Tailor  Patched, 
— which  the  present  Editor  has  affixed  to  his  pretended  commentary,  seems 
to  look  the  same  way.  But  though  there  is  a  good  deal  of  remark  through- 
out the  work  in  a  half-serious,  half-comic  style  upon  dress,  it  seems  to  be  in 
reality  a  treatise  upon  the  great  science  of  Things  in  General,  which  Teu- 
felsdrockh is  supposed  to  have  professed  at  the  university  of  Nobody -knows- 
where.  Now,  without  intending  to  adopt  a  too  rigid  standard  of  morals, 
we  own  that  we  doubt  a  little  the  propriety  of  offering  to  the  public  a  trea- 
tise on  Things  in  General,  under  the  name  and  in  the  form  of  an  Essay  on 
Dress.  For  ourselves,  advanced  as  we  unfortunately  are  in  the  journey  of 
life,  far  beyond  the  period  when  dress  is  practically  a  matter  of  interest, 
we  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  the  real  subject  of  the  work  is  to  us 
more  attractive  than  the  ostensible  one.  But  this  is  probably  not  the  case 
with  the  mass  of  readers.  To  the  younger  portion  of  the  community, 
which  constitutes  every  where  the  very  great  majority,  the  subject  of  dress 
is  one  of  intense  and  paramount  importance.  An  author  who  treats  it  ap- 
peals, like  the  poet,  to  the  young  men  and  maidens — virginibus  puerisqne, — 
and  calls  upon  them  by  all  the  motives  which  habitually  operate  most 
strongly  upon  their  feelings  to  buy  his  book.  When,  after  opening  their 
purses  for  this  purpose,  they  have  carried  home  the  work  in  triumph,  ex- 
pecting to  find  in  it  some  particular  instruction  in  regard  to  the  tying  of 


TESTIMONIES   OF   AUTHORS. 


their  neckcloths,  or  the  cut  of  their  corsets,  and  meet  with  nothing  better 
than  a  dissertation  on  Things  in  General,  they  will, — to  use  the  mildest  term, 
— not  be  in  very  good  humour.  If  the  last  improvements  in  legislation, 
which  we  have  made  in  this  country,  should  have  found  their  way  to  Eng- 
land, the  author  we  think  would  stand  some  chance  of  being  Lynched. 
Whether  his  object  in  this  piece  of  super cherie  be  merely  pecuniary  profit, 
or  whether  he  takes  a  malicious  pleasure  in  quizzing  the  Dandies,  we  shall 
not  undertake  to  say.  In  the  latter  part  of  the  work,  he  devotes  a  separate 
chapter  to  this  class  of  persons,  from  the  tenour  of  which  we  should  be  dis- 
posed to  conclude  that  he  would  consider  any  mode  of  divesting  them  of 
their  property  very  much  In  the  nature  of  a  spoiling  of  the  Egyptians. 

':  The  only  thing  about  the  work,  tending  to  prove  that  it  is  what  it  pur- 
ports to  be,  a  commentary  on  a  real  German  treatise,  is  the  style,  which  is 
a  sort  of  Babylonish  dialect,  not  destitute,  it  is  true,  of  richness,  vigour, 
and  at  times  a  sort  of  singular  felicity  of  expression,  but  very  strongly 
tinged  throughout  with  the  peculiar  idiom  of  the  German  language.  This 
quality  in  the  style,  however,  may  be.  a  mere  result  of  a  great  familiarity 
with  German  literature,  and  we  cannot,  therefore,  look  upon  it  as  in  itself 
decisive,  still  less  as  outweighing  so  much  evidence  of  an  opposite  character." 
— North  American  Review,  No.  89,  October,  1835. 


IV.  New-England  Editors. 

"  The  Editors  have  been  induced,  by  the  expressed  desire  of  many  per- 
sons, to  collect  the  following  sheets  out  of  the  ephemeral  pamphlets*  in 
which  they  first  appeared,  under  the  conviction  that  they  contain  in  them- 
selves the  assurance  of  a  longer  date. 

"  The  Editors  have  no  expectation  that  this  little  Work  will  have  a  sud- 
den and  general  popularity.  They  will  not  undertake,  as  there  is  no  need, 
to  justify  the  gay  costume  in  which  the  Author  delights  to  dress  his 
thoughts,  or  the  German  idioms  with  which  he  has  sportively  sprinkled  his 
pages.  It  is  his  humour  to  advance  the  gravest  speculations  upon  the  gravest 
topics  in  a  quaint  and  burlesque  style.  If  his  masquerade  offend  any  of 
his  audience,  to  that  degree  that  they  will  not  hear  what  he  has  to  say,  it 
may  chance  to  draw  others  to  listen  to  his  wisdom ;  and  what  work  of  im- 
agination can  hope  to  please  all  ?  But  we  will  venture  to  remark  that  the 
distaste  excited  by  these  peculiarities  in  some  readers  is  greatest  at  first,  and 
is  soon  forgotten ;  ami  that  the  foreign  dross  and  aspect  of  the  Work  are 
quite  superficial,  and  cover  a  genuine  Saxon  heart.  We  believe,  no  book 
has  been  published  for  many  years,  written  in  a  more  sincere  style  of 
idiomatic  English,  or  which  discovers  an  equal  mastery  over  all  the  riches 
of  the  language.     The  Author  makes  ample  amends  for  the  occasional  ec- 

*  "  Fraser's  (London)  Magazine,  1833-4." 


TESTIMONIES   OF  AUTHORS. 


centricity  of  his  genius,  not  only  by  frequent  bursts  of  pure   splendour 
but  by  the  wit  and  sense  which  never  fail  him. 

"  But  what  will  chiefly  commend  the  Book  to  the  discerning  reader  is  the 
manifest  design  of  the  work,  which  is,  a  Criticism  upon  the  Spirit  of  the 
Age, — we  had  almost  said,  of  the  hour,  in  which  we  live  ;  exhibiting  in  the 
most  just  and  novel  light  the  present  aspects  of  Religion,  Politics,  Litera- 
ture, Arts,  and  Social  Life.  Under  all  his  gaiety  the  Writer  has  an  earnest 
meaning,  and  discovers  an  insight  into  the  manifold  wants  and  tendencies 
of  human  nature,  which  is  very  rare  among  our  popular  authors.  The 
philanthropy  and  the  purity  of  moral  sentiment,  which  inspire  the  work, 
will  find  their  way  to  the  heart  of  every  lover  of  virtue." — Preface  to  Sar- 
tor Resartus :  Boston,  1836,  1837. 


Sunt,  Fuerunt  vel  Fuere. 
London,  30th  June,  1838. 


\ 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK    I. 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.  Preliminary .1 

II.  Editorial  Difficulties .  6 

III.  Reminiscences            10 

V.  Characteristics              20 

V.  The  World  in  Clothes  ' 26 

VI.  Aprons 32 

VII.  Miscellaneous-historical            35 

VIII.  The  World  out  of  Clothes 39 

IX.  Adamitism 45 

X.  Pure  Reason 50 

XI.  Prospective        ...                55 


BOOK    II. 

I.  Genesis     . 65 

V   II.  Idyllic 72 

k/tlT.  Pedagogy 80 

IV.  Getting  under  Way 94 

V.  Romance 105 

VVI.  Sorrows  of  Teufelsdrockh 110 

/\  IlfrThe  everlasting  No 125 

HI.  «Centre  of  Indifference 132  « 

IX.yThe  everlasting  Yea 142 

X.  Pause  ....  153 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK     III. 

I    II  LP,  PAGE 

[.  Incident  in  Modern  History 163 

II.  Church-Clothes 168 

[II,  Symbols 171 

IV.  Helotage 178 

V.  The  Phoenix 1S2 

VI.  Old  Clothes 1SS 

VII.  Organic  Filaments 192 

VIII.  Natural  Supernaturalism 200 

IX.  Circumspective          .                 .  210 

X.  The  Dandiacal  Body 214 

XI.  Tailors .  226 

XII.  Farewell                                                       ....  229 


LIB] 


University  of  California. 


VANCH 


-*-we  week!  ;  or 


•>h 


BOOK    I. 


SARTOR    RESARTUS 


CHAPTER    I 


PRELIMINARY. 


Considering  our  present  advanced  state  of  culture,  and  how 
the  Torch  of  Science  has  now  been  brandished  and  borne  about, 
with  more  or  less  effect,  for  five  thousand  years  and  upwards  ; 
how,  in  these  times  especially,  not  only  the  Torch  still  burns,  and 
perhaps  more  fiercely  than  ever,  but  innumerable  Rust-lights, 
and  Sulphur-matches,  kindled  thereat,  are  also  glancing  in  every 
direction,  so  that  not  the  smallest  cranny  or  doghole  in  Nature 
or  Art  can  remain  unilluminated. — it  might  strike  the  reflective 
mind  with  some  surprise  that  hitherto  little  or  nothing  of  a  fun- 
damental character,  whether  in  the  way  of  Philosophy  or  History, 
has  been  written  on  the  jmJjgccJLof  Clothes. 

Our  Theory  of  Gravitation  is  as  good  as  perfect :  Lagrange,  it 
is  well  known,  has  proved  that  the  Planetary  System,  on  this 
scheme,  will  endure  for  ever  ;  Laplace,  still  more  cunningly,  even 
guesses  that  it  could  not  have  been  made  on  any  other  scheme. 
Whereby,  at  least,  our  nautical  Logbooks  can  be  better  kept ; 
and  water-transport  of  all  kinds  has  grown  more  commodious. 
Of  Geology  and  Geognosy  we  know  enough  :  what  with  the 
labours  of  our  Werners  and  Huttons,  what  with  the  ardent 
genius  of  their  disciples,  it  has  come  about  that  now,  to  many  a 
Royal  Society,  the  Creation  of  a  World  is  little  more  mysterious 
than  the  cooking  of  a  Dumpling  ;  concerning  which  last,  indeed,  f 
there  have  been  miuds  to  whom  the  question,  How  the  Apples 
icere  got  in,  presented  difficulties. .    Why  mention  our  disquisi- 

2 


SARTOR   RESARTUS. 


tions  on  the  Social  Contract,  on  the  Standard  of  Taste,  on  the 
Migrations  of  the  Herring  ?  Then,  have  we  not  a  Doctrine  of 
Bent,  a  Theory  of  Value  ;  Philosophies  of  Language,  of  History, 
of  Pottery,  of  Apparitions,  of  Intoxicating  Liquors?  Man's 
whole  life  and  environment  have  been  laid  open  and  elucidated ; 
scarcely  a  fragment  or  fibre  of  his  Soul,  Body,  and  Possessions, 
but  has  been  probed,  dissected,  distilled,  desiccated,  and  scientifi- 
cally decomposed  :  our  spiritual  Faculties,  of  which  it  appears 
there  are  not  a  few,  have  their  Stewarts,  Cousins,  Eoyer  Col- 
lards :  every  cellular,  vascular,  muscular  Tissue  glories  in  its 
Lawrences,  Majendies,  Bichats. 

How,  then,  comes  it,  may  the  reflective  mind  repeat,  that  the 
grand  Tissue  of  all  Tissues,  the  only  real  Tissue,  should  have  been 
quite  overlooked  by  Science. — the  vestural  Tissue,  namely,  of  wool- 
len or  other  clofii ;  which  Man's  Soul  wears  as  its  outmost  wrap- 
page and  overall ;  wherein  his  whole  other  Tissues  are  included 
and  screened,  his  whole  Faculties  work,  his  whole  Self  lives,  moves, 
and  has  its  being  ?     For  if,  now  and  then,  some  straggling  bro- 
ken-winged thinker  has  cast  an  owl's  glance  into  this  obscure 
;  ii.  the  most  have  soared  over  it  altogether  heedless  :  regard- 
ed Clothes  as  a  property,  not  an  accident,  as  quite  natural  and 
spontaneous,  like  the  leaves  of  trees,  like  the  plumage  of  birds. 
In  all  speculations  they  have  tacitly  figured  man  as  a   Clothed 
Animal;  whereas  he  is  by  nature  a  Naked  Animal :  and  only  in 
unstances,  by  purpose  and  device,  masks  himself  in 
Clothes.     Shakspeare  says,  we  are   creatures    that   look  before 
•^    and  after  :  the  more  surprising  that  we  do  no;  look  round  a  little, 
and  see  what  is  passing  under  our  very  c\ 

But  here,  as  in  so  many  other  eases,  Qtefi  Lany,  learned,  inde- 
fatigable, deep-thinking  Germany  comes  to  our  aid.  It  is.  after 
all.  a  blessing  that,  in  these  revolutionary  times,  there  should  be 
one  country  where  abstract  Thought  can  still  take  shelter;  that 
while  the  din  and  frenzy  of  Catholic  Emancipations,  and  Rotten 
Boroughs,  and  Revolts  of  Paris,  deafen  every  French  and 
English  ear,  the  German  can  stand  peaceful  on  his  scientific 
watch-tower;  and.  to  the  raging,  struggling  multitude  here  and 
•lemnly,  from  hour,  to  hour,  with  preparatory  blasl 
of  oowhorn,  emit  his  Horei 


PRELIMINARY. 


ill  other  words,  tell  the  Universe,  which  so  often  forgets  that  fact, 
what  o'clock  it  really  is.  Not  unfrequently  the  Germans  have 
been  blamed  for  an  unprofitable  diligence  ;  as  if  they  struck  into 
devious  courses,  where  nothing  was  to  be  had  but  the  toil  of  a 
rough  journey  ;  as  if,  forsaking  the  gold-mines  of  Finance,  and 
that  political  slaughter  of  fat  oxen  whereby  a  man  himself  grows 
fat,  they  were  apt  to  run  goose-hunting  into  regions  of  bilberries 
and  crowberries,  and  be  swallowed  up  at  last  in  remote  peat-bogs. 
Of  that  unwise  science,  which,  as  our  Humorist  expresses  it, 

1  By_geometric  scale 
Doth  take  the  size  of  pots  of  ale ;' 

fftill  more,  of  that  altogether  misdirected  industry,  which  is  seen 
vigorously  enough  thrashing  mere  straw,  there  can  nothing  de- 
fensive be  said.  In  so  far  as  the  Germans  are  chargeable  with 
such,  let  them  take  the  consequence.  Nevertheless  be  it  re- 
marked, that  even  a  Russian  steppe  has  tumuli  and  gold  orna- 
ments ;  also  many  a  scene  that  looks  desert  and  rock-bound  from 
the  distance,  will  unfold  itself,  when  visited,  into  rare  valleys. 
Nay,  in  any  case,  would  Criticism  erect  not  only  finger-posts  and 
turnpikes,  but  spiked  gates  and  impassible  barriers,  for  the  mind 
of  man  ?  It  is  written,  l  Many  shall  run  to  and  fro,  and  know- 
ledge shall  be  increased.'  Surely  the  plain  rule  is,  Let_each  con- 
siderate person  have  his  way,  and  see  what  it  will  lead  to.  For 
not  this  man  and  that  man,  but  all  men  make  up  mankind,  and 
their  united  tasks  the  task  of  mankind.  How  often  have  we 
seen  some  such  adventurous,  and  perhaps  much-censured  wan- 
derer light  on  some  outlying,  neglected,  yet  vitally  momentous 
province ;  the  hidden  treasures  of  which  he  first  discovered,  and 
kept  proclaiming  till  the  general  eye  and  effort  were  directed 
thither,  and  the  conquest  was  completed  ; — thereby,  in  these  his 
seemingly  so  aimless  rambles,  planting  new  standards,  founding 
new  habitable  colonies,  in  the  immeasurable  circumambient  realm 
of  Nothingness  and  Night  ?  Wise  man  was  he  who  counselled 
that  Speculation  should  have  free  course,  and  look  fearlessly  to- 
wards all  the  thirty-two  points  of  the  compass,  whithersoever  and 
howsoever  it  listed. 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


Perhaps  it  is  proof  of  the  stinted  condition  in  which  pure 
Science,  especially  pure  moral  Science,  languishes  among  us  Eng- 
lish ;  and  how  our  mercantile  greatness,  and  invaluable  Consti- 
tution, impressing  a  political  or  other  immediately  practical  ten- 
dency on  all  English  culture  and  endeavour,  cramps  the  free 
flight  of  Thought, — that  this,  not  Philosophy  of  Clothes,  but  re- 
cognition even  that  we  have  no  such  Philosophy,  stands  here  for 
the  first  time  published  in  our  language.  What  English  intellect 
could  have  chosen  such  a  topic,  or  by  chance  stumbled  on  it  ? 
But  for  that  same  unshackled,  and  even  sequestered  condition  of 

the  German  Learned,  which  permits  and  induces  them  to_iish— ie 

all  manner  of  waters,  with  all  manner  of  nets,  it  seems  probable 
enougH,  this  abstruse  Inquiry  might,  in  spite  of  the  results  it 
leads  to,  have  continued  dormant  for  indefinite  periods.  The  Edi- 
tor of  these  sheets,  though  otherwise  boasting  himself  a  man  of 
confirmed  speculative  habits,  and  perhaps  discursive  enough,  is 
free  to  confess,  that  never,  till  these  last  months,  did  the  above 
very  plain  considerations,  on  our  total  want  of  a  Philosophy  of 
Clothes,  occur  to  him  :  and  then,  by  quite  foreign  suggestion.  By 
the  arrival,  namely,  of  a  new  Book  from  Professor  Teufelsdrockh 
\  of  Weissnichtwo ;  treating  expressly  of  this  subject ;  and  in  a 
'  style  which,  whether  understood  or  not,  could  not  even  by  the 
blindest  be  overlooked.  In  the  present  Editor's  way  of  thought, 
this  remarkable  Treatise,  with  its  Doctrines,  whether  as  judicially 
acceded  to,  or  judicially  denied,  has  not  remained  without  effect. 
1  Die  Kinder,  ihr  Werden  und  Wirken  (Clothes,  their  Origin 
'and  Influence):  von  JJiog.  Teufelsdrockh.  J.  U.  1).  etc.  Still- 
1  schweigen  und  Co=nie-        Weissnichtwo,  1831. 

'  Here,'  says  the  Weissnichtwo' sche  Anzeiger,  •  comes  a  Volume 
'  of  that  extensive,  close-printed,  close-meditated  sort,  which  be  it  • 
'spoken  with  pride,  is  seen  only  in  Germany,  perhaps  only  in 
'  Weissnichtwo.  Issuing  from  the  hitherto  irreproachable  Firm 
'of  Stillschweigen  and  Company,  with  every  external  further- 
'  ance,  it  is  of  such  internal    quality  as  to  set   Neglect  at  de- 


'  fiance.'  *  *  *  *  'A  work,'  concludes  the  well  nigh  enthusias- 
tic Reviewer,  '  interesting  alike  to  the  antiquary,  the  historian, 
'  and  the  philosophic  thinker ;  a  masterpiece  of  boldness,  lynx- 
'  eyed  acuteness,  and  rugged  independent  Germanism  and  Phi 


PRELIMINARY. 


'  lanthropy  (derbcn  Kerndeutschhcit  unci  Menschenliebe) ;  which  will 
i  not,  assuredly,  pass  current  without  opposition  in  high  places  : 
'  but  must  and  will  exalt  the  almost  new  name  of  Teufelsdrockh 
'  to  the  first  rank  of  Philosophy,  in  our  German  Temple  of 
c  Honour.' 

Mindful  of  old  friendship,  the  distinguished  Professor,  in  this 
the  first  blaze  of  his  fame,  which  however  does  not  dazzle  him, 
sends  hither  a  Presentation-copy  of  his  Book ;  with  compliments 
and  encomiums  which  modesty  forbids  the  present  Editor  to  re- 
hearse ;  yet  without  indicated  wish  or  hope  of  any  kind,  except 
what  may  be  implied  in  the  concluding  phrase :  Mochte  es  (this 
remarkable  Treatise)  audi  im  Brittischen  Boden  gedeihen! 


SARTOR   EESARTUS. 


CHAPTER    II. 


EDITORIAL    DIFFICULTIES. 


If  for  a  speculative  man,  'whose  seedfield,'  in  the  sublime 
words  of  the  Poet,  '  is  Time,'  no  conquest  is  important  but  that 
of  new  ideas,  then  might  the  arrival  of  Professor  Teufelsdrockh's 
Book  be  marked  with  chalk  in  the  Editor's  calendar.  It  is  in- 
deed an  '  extensive  Volume,'  of  boundless,  almost  formless  con- 
tents, a  very  Sea  of  Thought;  neither  calm  nor  clear,  if  you 
will ;  yet  wherein  the  toughest  pearl-diver  may  dive  to  his  utmost 
depth,  and  return  not  only  with  sea  wreck  but  with  true  orients. 

Directly  on  the  first  perusal,  almost  on  the  first  deliberate  in- 
spection, it  became  apparent  that  here  a  quite  new  Branch  of 
Philosophy,  leading  to  as  yet  undescried  ulterior  results,  was  dis- 
J  closed ;  farther,  what  seemed  scarcely  less  interesting,  a  quite 
new  human  Individuality,  an  almost  unexampled  personal  charac- 
ter, that,  namely,  "1"  Professor  Teufelsdrockh  the  Discloser.  Of 
both  which  novelties,  as  far  as  might  be  possible,  we  resolved  to 
master  the  significance.  But  as  man  is  emphatically  a  Prosely- 
tising creature,  no  sooner  was  such  mastery  even  fairly  attempted, 
than  the  new  Question  arose:  How  might  this  acquired  good  he 
imparted  to  others,  perhaps  in  equal  need  thereof:  how  could  the 
Philosophy  of  Clothes,  and  the  Author  of  Buch  Philosophy,  be 
brought  home,  in  any  measure,  to  the  business  and  bosoms  of 
our  own   English   nation  ?      For  if  i  id  to  burn 

the  pockets  till  it  be  cast  forth  into  circulation,  much  more 
new  Truth. 

Here,  however,  difficulties  occurred.     The  first  thought  natu- 
rally was  to  publish  Article  after  Article  on  this  remarkable  Vol- 
ume, in  BUCh  widely  circulating   Critical   Journals  as   the    Editor 
might  stand  connected  with,  or  by  money  or  love  procure  a 
to.      But,  on  the  other  hand,  was  it  not  clear  that  such  matter  as 


EDITORIAL  DIFFICULTIES. 


must  here  be  revealed  and  treated  of  might  endanger  the  Circu- 
lation of  any  Journal  extant  ?     If,  indeed,  the  whole  parties  of 
the  State  could  have  been  abolished,  Whig,  Tory,  and  Radical. 
embracing  in  discrepant  union ;  and  the  whole  Journals  of  the 
Nation  could  have  been  jumbled  into  one  Journal,  and  the  Phi- 
losophy of  Clothes  poured  forth  in  incessant  torrents  therefV 
the  attempt  had  seemed  possible.     But,  alas,  what  vehicle  of  I 
sort  have  we,  except  Fraser's  Magazine  ?     A  vehicle  all  strewed 
(figuratively  speaking)  with  the  maddest  Waterloo-Crackers,  ex- 
ploding distinctively  and  destructively,  wheresoever  the  mystified 
passenger  stands  or  sits  :  nay,  in  any  case,  understood  to  be,  of 
late  years,  a  vehicle  full  to  overflowing,  and  inexorably  shut ! 
Besides,  to  state  the  Philosophy  of  Clothes  without  the"  Philoso- 
pher, the  idea^rof  Teufelsdrockh  without  something  of  his  per-J 
sonality,  was  if  not  to  insure  both  of  entire  misapprehension  ?f 
Now  for  Biography,  had  it  been  otherwise  admissible,  there  were 
no  adequate  documents,  no  hope  of  obtaining  such,  but  rather, 
owing  to  circumstances,  a  special  despair.     Thus  did  the  Editor 
see  himself,  for  the  while,  shut  out  from  all  public  utterance 
of  these   extraordinary  Doctrines,  and    constrained  to  revolve 

I  them,  not  without  disquietude,  in  the  dark  depths  of  his  own 

r  mind. 

80  had  it  lasted  for  some  months;  and  now  the  Volume  on 
Clothes,  read  and  again  read,  was  in  several  points  becoming 
lucid  and  lucent ;  the  personality  of  its  Author  more  and  more 
surprising,  but,  in  spite  of  all  that  memory  and  conjecture  could 
do,  more  and  more  enigmatic ;  whereby  the  old  disquietude 
seemed  fast  settling  into  fixed  discontent, — when  altogether  un- 
expectedly arrives  a  Letter  from  Herr  Hofrath  Heuschrecke,  our 
Professor's  chief  friend  and  associate  in  Weissnichtwo,  with 
whom  we  had  not  previously  corresponded.  The  Hofrath,  after 
much  quite  extraneous  matter,  began  dilating  largely  on  the 
'agitation  and  attention'  which  the  Philosophy  of  Clothes 
exciting  in  its  own  German  Republic  of  Letters ;  on  the  deep 
significance  and  tendency  of  his  Friend's  Volume ;  and  then,  at 
length,  with  great  circumlocution,  hinted  at  the  practicability  of 
conveying  '  some  knowledge  of  it,  and  of  him,  to  England,  and 
through  England  to  the  distant  West:'    a  Wrork  on  Professor 


SARTOR   RESARTUS. 


Teufelsdrockh  'were  undoubtedly  welcome  to  the  Family,  the 
•  National,  or  any  other  of  those  patriotic  Libraries,  at  present  the 
1  glory  of  British  Literature  ;'  might  work  revolutions  in  Thought ; 
and  so  forth  : — in  conclusion,  intimating  not  obscurely,  that  Bhould 
the  present  Editor  feel  disposed  to  undertake  a  Biography  of 
Teufelsdrockh,  he,  Hofrath  Ilcuschrcckc.  had  it  in  his  power  to 
furnish  the  requisite  Documents. 

As  in  some  chemical  mixture,  that  has  stood  long  evaporating, 
but  would  not  crystallise,  instantly  when  the  wire  or  other  fixed 
substance  is  introduced,  crystallisation  commences,  and  rapidly 
proceeds  till  the  whole  is  finished,  so  was  it  with  the  Editor's 
mind  and  this  offer  of  Hcusehrecke's.  Form  rose  out  of  void 
solution  and  discontinuity  ;  like  united  itself  with  like  in  definite 
arrangement :  and  soon  either  in  actual  vision  and  possession,  or 
in  fixed  reasonable  hope,  the  image  of  the  whole  Enterprise  had 
shaped  itself,  so  to  speak,  into  a  solid  mass.  Cautiously  yet 
courageously,  through  the  twopenny  post,  application  to  the  famed 
redoubtable  Oliver  Yorke  was  now  made  :  an  interview,  inter- 
views with  that  singular  man  have  taken  place  ;  with  more  of 
11  ranee  on  our  side,  with  less  of  satire  (at  least  of  open  satire) 
on  his.  than  we  anticipated  ; — for  the  rest,  with  sueh  issue  as 
is  now  visible.  As  to  those  same  ' patriotic  JLibrariesf  the  Ho- 
frath's  counsel  could  only  be  viewed  with  silent  amazement;  but 
with  his  offer  of  Documents  we  joyfully  and  almost  instantane- 
ously closed.  Thus,  too,  in  the  sure  expectation  of  these,  we 
ilready  see  our  task  begun  ;  and  this  our  Sartor  Resartus,  which 
-  properly  a  ■  Life  and  Opinions  of  Iierr  Teufelsdrockh/  hourly 
advancing. 

Of  our  fitness  for  the  Enterprise,  to  which  we  have  such  title 
and  vocation,  it  were  \  nrhaps  uninteresting  to  Bay  more.  Let  the 
British  reader  study  and  enjoy,  in  simplicity  bf  heart,  what  is 
here  presented  him,  and  with  whatever  metaphysical  acumen,  and 
talent  for  Meditation  he  is  possessed  of.  Let  him  strive  to  keep 
a  free,  open  sense  :  cleared  from  the  mists  of  Prejudice,  above  all 
from  the  paralysis  of  Cant;  and  directed  rather  to  the  Book 
itself  than  to  the  Editor  of  the  Book.     Who  or  whal  such  Editor 


EDITORIAL   DIFFICULTIES. 


may  be,  must  remain  conjectural,  and  even  insignificant:*  it  is  a 
voice  publishing  tidings  of  the  Philosophy  of  Clothes  ;  undoubt- 
edly a  Spirit  addressing  Spirits:  whcso  hath  ears  let  him  hear. 

On  one  other  point  the  Editor  thinks  it  needful  to  give  warn- 
ing :  namely,  that  he  is  animated  with  a  true  though  perhaps  a 
feeble  attachment  to  the  Institutions  of  our  Ancestors ;  and 
minded  to  defend  these,  according  to  ability,  at  all  hazards ;  nay, 
it  was  partly  with  a  view  to  such  defence  that  he  engaged  in  this 
undertaking.  To  stem,  or  if  that  be  impossible,  profitably  Jto 
divert  the  current  of  Innovation,  such  a  Volume  as  Teufels- 
drockh's,  if  cunningly  planted  down,  were  no  despicable  pile,  or 
floodgate,  in  the  Logical  wear. 

For  the  rest,  be  it  no  wise  apprehended,  that  any  personal  con- 
nexion of  ours  with  Teufelsdrockh,  Heuschrecke,  or  this  Philo- 
sophy of  Clothes,  can  pervert  our  judgment,  or  sway  us  to  exten- 
uate or  exaggerate.  Powerless,  we  venture  to  promise,  are  those 
private  Compliments  themselves.  Grateful  they  may  well  be  ; 
as  generous  illusions  of  friendship  :  as  fair  mementos  of  bygone 
unions,  of  those  nights  and  suppers  of  the  Grods,  when  lapped 
in  the  symphonies  and  harmonies  of  Philosophic  Eloquence, 
though  with  baser  accompaniments,  the  present  Editor  revelled 
in  that  feast  of  reason,  never  since  vouchsafed  him  in  so  full  mea- 
ure  !  But  what  then  1  Amicus  Plato,  magis  arnica  Veritas ; 
Teufelsdrockh  is  our  friend,  Truth  is  our  divinity.  <^ln  our  his- 
torical and  critical  capacity,  we  hope  we  are  strangers  to  all  the 
world  ;  have  feud  or  favour  with  no  one, — save  indeed  the  Devil, 
with  whom,  as  with  the  Prince  of  Lies  and  Darkness,  we  do  at 
all  times  wage  internecine  war^  This  assurance,  at  an  epoch 
when  Pjif£exy and  Quackery  hate  reached  a  height  unexampled 
in  the  annals  of  mankind,  and  even  English  Editors,  like  Chinese 
Shopkeepers,  must  write  on  their  door-lintels,  No  cheating  here, — 
we  thought  it  good  to  premise. 

*  With  us  even  he  still  communicates  in  some  sort  of  mask,  or  muffler ; 
and,  we  have  reason  to  think,  under  a  feigned  name  ! — O.  Y. 

2* 


10  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


/ 


CHAPTER    III. 


REMINISCENCES. 


To  the  Author's  private  circle  the  appearance  of  this  singular 
Work  on  Clothes  must  have  occasioned  little  less  surprise  than  it 
has  to  the  rest  of  the  world.  For  ourselves,  at  least,  few  things 
have  been  more  unexpected.  Professor  Teufelsdrockh,  at  the  pe- 
riod of  our  acquaintance  with  him,  seemed  to  lead  a  cpiite  still 
and  selfrcontaincd  life  :  a  man  devoted  to  the  higher  Philoso- 
phies,  indeed ;  yet  more  likely,  if  he  published  at  all,  to  publish 
a  Refutation  of  Hegel  and  Bardili,  both  of  whom,  strangely 
enough,  he  included  under  a  common  ban  ;  than  to  descend,  as 
he  has  here  done,  into  the  angry  noisy  Forum,  witli  an  Argument 
that  cannot  but  exasperate  and  divide.  Not,  that  we  can  remem- 
ber, was  the  Philosophy  of  Clothes  once  touched  upon  between 
us.  If  through  the  high,  silent,  meditative  Transcendentalism 
of  our  Friend  we  detected  any  practical  tendency  whatever,  it 
was  at  nmst  Political,  and  towards  a  certain  prospective,  and  for 
the  present  quite  speculative,  Radicalism  ;  as  indeed  some  corres- 
pondence, on  his  part,  with  Herr  Oken  of  Jena  was  now  and  then 
suspected  ;  though  his  special  contributions  to  the  Isis  could 
never  be  more  than  surmised  at.  (\But,  at  all  events,  nothing 
Moral,  still  less  any  thing  Didaetico-lleligious,  was  looked  for 
from  himy 

Well  do  we  recollect  the  last  words  he  spoke  in  our  hearing  ; 
which  indeed,  with  the  Night  they  were  uttered  in,  are  to  be  for 
ever  remembered.  Lifting  his  huge  tumbler  of  Ghdtgvkf  and 
for  a  moment  lowering  his  tobacco-pipe,  he  stood  up  in  full  coffee- 
house (it  was  Zi/ni  Grunen  Gunse^  the  largest  in  AYeissnichtwo, 
where  all  the  Virtuosity,  and  nearly  all  the  Intellect,  of  the  place 

*  Gukguk  is  unhappily  only  an  academical — beer. 


REMINISCENCES.  n 


assembled  of  an  evening) ;  and  there,  with  low,  soul-stirring 
tone,  and  the  look  truly  of  an  angel,  though  whether  of  a  white 
or  of  a  black  one  might  he  dubious,  proposed  this  toast:  Die 
SacJic  dcr  Armenin  Gotlcs  unci   Teufcls  Namcn  (The  Cause  of  the 

Poor  in  Heaven's  name  and 's) !     One  full  shout,  breaking 

the  leaden  silence ;  then  a  gurgle  of  innumerable  emptying 
bumpers,  again  followed  by  universal  cheering,  returned  him  loud 
acclaim.  It  was  the  finale  of  the  night :  resuming  their  pipes  ; 
in  the  highest  enthusiasm,  amid  volumes  of  tobacco-smoke  ;  tri- 
umphant, cloudcapt  without  and  within,  the  assembly  broke  up, 
each  to  his  thoughtful  pillow.  Bleibt  clock  ein  eckter  Spass-und 
Galgen-vogcl,  said  several ;  meaning  thereby  thaly  one  .day,  he 
would  probably  be  hanged  for  his  democratic  sentiments.  Wo 
steckt  der  Sclialk  ?  added  they,  looking  round  :  but  Teufelsdrockh 
had  retired  by  private  alleys,  and  the  Compiler  of  these  pages 
beheld  him  no  more. 

In  such  scenes  has  it  been  our  lot  to  live  with  this  Philosopher, 
such  estimate  to  form  of  his  purposes  and  powers.  And  yet, 
thou  brave  Teufelsdrockh,  who  could  tell  what  lurked  in  thee  1 
Under  those  thick  locks  of  thine,  so  long  and  lank,  overlapping 
roof-wise  the  gravest  face  we  ever  in  this  world  saw,  there  dwelt  a 
uiost  busy  brain.  In  thy  eyes  too,  deep  under  their  shaggy 
brows,  and  looking  out  so  still  and  dreamy,  have  we  not  noticed 
gleams  of  an  ethereal  or  else  a  diabolic  fire,  and  half  fancied  that 
their  stillness  was  but  the  rest  of  infinite  motion,  the  sleep  of  a 
spinning  top  ?  Thy  little  figure,  there  as,  in  loose,  ill-brushed, 
threadbare  habiliments,  thou  sattest,  amid  litter  and  lumber, 
whole  days,  to  l  think  and  smoke  tobacco,'  held  in  it  a  mighty 
heart.  The  secrets  of  man's  Life  were  laid  open  to  thee ;  thou 
sawest  into  the  mystery  of  the  Universe,  farther  than  another  ; 
thou  hadst  in  petto  thy  remarkable  Volume  on  Clothes.  Nay, 
was  there  not  in  that  clear  logically-founded  Transcendentalism 
of  thine  ;  still  more,  in  thy  meek,  silent,  deepseated  Sansculot- 
tjsm,  combined  with  a  true  princely  Courtesy  of  inward  nature, 
the  visible  rudiments  of  such  speculation  %  But  great  men  are  too 
often  unknown,  or  what  is  worse,  misknown.  Already,  when  we 
dreamed  not  of  it,  the  warp  of  thy  .remarkable  Volume  lay  on  the 
loom;  and  silently,  mysterious  shuttles  were  putting  in  the  woof! 


12  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 

Bow  the  Hofrath   Heuschrecke  is  to  furnish  biographical  data, 
i:i  this  case,  may  be  a  curious  question  :  the  answer  of  which. 
howeyer,  is  happily  not  out  concern,  but  his.     To  us  it  appeared, 
after  repeated  trial,  that  in  Weissnichtwo,  from  the  archives  or 
;    the  best  informed  classes,  no  Biography  of  Teufels- 
drockh   was  to  l>c  gathered:   not  so  much  as  a  false  one.     He 
-  a  Stranger  there,  wafted  thither  by  what  is  called  the  course 
of  circumstances;  concerning  whose  parentage,  birth-place,  pros- 
its,  or  pursuits,  Curiosity  had  indeed  made  inquiries,  but  satis- 
fied herself  with   the  moat  indistinct  replies.     For  himself,  he 
y  was  a  man  so  still  and  altogether  un participating,  that  to  question 
him  even  afar  off  on   such    particulars  was  a  thing  of  more  than 
usual  delicacy  :  besides,  in  his  sly  way,  he  had  ever  some  quaint 
turn,  not  without    its   satirical  edge,  wherewith  to  divert  such   in- 
trusions,  and    deter   you   from    the    like       Wits    spoke    of    him 
nth  as  if  he  were  a  kind  of  Melchizedek,  without  father  or 
iicr  of  any  kind  :  sometimes,  with  reference  to  his  great  his- 
toric and  statistic  knowledge,  and  the  vivid  way  he  had  ofex] 
ing     himself    like    an    eye-witness    of    distant    transactions    and 
oes,  tiny  called   him   the   Ewige  J:i  h\   Everlasting,  or  as  we 
say.  "Wandering  J(  sv. 

To  the  most,  indeed;  he  had  become  not  so  much  a  Man  as  a 
which  Thing  doubtless  they  were  accustomed  to  see.  and 
with  satisfaction  :    but  no  more  thought  of  accounting  for  than  for 
•  the  fabrication  of  their  daily  Atigemeine  Zeitang,  or  the  domestic 
habits  of  the  Sun.     Both  wen;  there  and  welcome  ;  theworld  en- 
joyed what  g 1  was  in  them,  and  thought  DOmoreoftBe  matter. 

The  man  Teufelsdroekh  passed    and  repassed,  4D  his  little  circle. 

one  of  these  originals  and  nondescripts,  mere  frequent  in  Ger- 
man Universities  than  elsewhere;  of  whom,  though  you  see  them 
alive,  and  feel  certain  enough  that  they  must  have  a  History, 
History  seems  to  be  discoverable  ;  or  only  Buch  as  men  give  of 
mountain  rocks  and  antediluvian  ruins  :/'That  they  have  keen 
created  by  unknown  agencies, are  in  a  state  of  gradual  decay,  and 
for  the  present  reflect  light  ami  resist  pressure  ;  that  is.  are  visi- 
ble and  tangible  objects  in  this  phantasm  world,  where  so  much 
other  m\  m.iy  i- 

It  was  to  be  remarked  that  though,  by  title  and  diploma.  Pro- 


REMINISCEN&S^ 


13 


feasor  der  AUerley-Wlssenschaft^  or  as  we  should  say  in   English, 

'  Professor  of  Things  in  General,1  he  had  never  delivered  any 
Course  \  perhaps  never  been  incited  thereto  by  any  public  fur- 
therance or  requisition.  To  all  appearance,  the  enlightened  Gov- 
ernment of  Weissnichtwo,  in  founding  their  New  University,  im- 
agined they  had  done  enough,  if '  in  times  like  ours,'  as  the  half- 
official  Program  expressed  it,  '  when  all  things  are,  rapidly  or 
'  slowly,  resolving  themselves  into  Chaos,  a  Professorship  of  this 
•  kind  had  been  established  ;  whereby,  as  occasion  called,  the  task 
'  of  bodying  somewhat  forth  again  from  such  Chaos  might  be,  even 
'•slightly,  facilitated.'  That  actual  Lectures  should  be  held,,  and 
Public  Classes  for  the  •  Science  of  Things  in  General,'  they  doubt- 
less  considered  premature;  on  which  ground  too  they  had  only  es- 
tablished the.  Professorship,  nowise  endowed  it ;  so  that  Teufels- 
drockh,  '  recommended  by  the  highest  Names,'  had  been  pro- 
moted thereby  to  a  Name  merely. 

Great,  among  the  more  enlightened  classes,  was  the  admira- 
tion of  this  new  Professorship  :  how  an  enlightened  Government 
had  seen  into  the  Want  of  the  Age  (Zeiibedfyrfniss)  ;  how  at 
length,  instead  of  Denial  and  Destruction,  we  were  to  have  a 
science  of  Affirmation  and  lleconstruction  ;  and  Germany  and 
Weissnichtwo  were  where  they  should  be,  in  the  vanguard  of  the 
world.  Considerable  also  was  the  wonder  at  the  new  Professor, 
dropt  opportunely  enough  into  the  nascent  University  ;  so  able 
,to  lecture,  should  occasion  call ;  so  ready  to  hold  his  peace  for  in- 
definite periods,  should  an  enlightened  Government  consider  that 
occasion  did  not  call.  But  such  admiration  and  such  wonder, 
being  followed  by  no  act  to  keep  them  living,  could  last  only  nine 
days  ;  and  long  before  our  visit  to  that  scene,  had  quite  died  away. 
The  more  cunning  heads  thought  it  wras  all  an  expiring  clutch  at 
popularity,  on  the  part  of  a  Minister,  whom  domestic  embarrass- 
ments, court  intrigues,  old  age,  and  dropsy  soon  afterwards  finally 
drove  from  the  helm. 

As  for  Teufelsdrockh,  except  by  his  nightly  appearances  at  the 
Grimen  Gaiise,  Weissnichtwo  saw  little  of  him,  felt  little  of  him, 
Here,  over  his  tumbler  of  Gukguk,  he  sat  reading  Journals ; 
sometimes  contemplatively  looking  into  the  clouds  of  his  tobacco- 
pipe,  without  other  visible  employment :  always,  from  his  mild 


14  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

ways,  an  agreeable  phenomenon  there  ;  more  especially  when  he 
opened  his  lips  for  speech  ;  on  which  occasions  the  whole  Coffee- 
house would  hush  itself  into  silence,  as  if  sure  to  hear  something 
noteworthy.  Nay,  perhaps  to  hear  a  whole  series  and  river  of  the  • 
most  memorable  utterances  :  such  as,  when  once  thawed,  he  would 
for  hours  indulge  in,  with  fit  audience  :  and  the  more  memorable, 
as  issuing  from  a  head  apparently  not  more  interested  in  them, 
not  more  conscious  of  them,  than  is  the  sculptured  stone  head  of 
some  public  Fountain,  which  through  its  brass  mouth-tube  emits 
water  to  the  worthy  and  the  unworthy  ;  careless  whether  it  be  for 
cooking  victuals  or  quenching  conflagrations  ;  indeed  maintains  the 
same  earnest  assiduous  look,  whether  any  water  be  flowing  or  not. 

To  the  Editor  of  these  sheets,  as  to  a  young  enthusiastic  Eng- 
lishman, however  unworthy,  Teufelsdrockh  opened  himself  per- 
haps more  than  to  the  most.  Pity  only  that  we  could  not  then 
half  guess  his  importance,  and  scrutinise  him  with  due  power  of 
vision !  We  enjoyed,  what  not  three  men  in  Weissnichtwo  could 
boast  of,  a  certain  degree  of  access  to  the  Professor's  private  domi- 
cile. It  was  the  attic  floor  of  the  highest  house  in  the  Wahngasse  ; 
and  might  truly  be  called  the  innacle  of  Weissnichtwo,  for  it 
rose  sheer  up  above  the  contiguous  roofs,  themselves  rising  from 
elevated  ground.  Moreover,  with  its  windows,  it  looked  towards 
all  the  four  Ortc,  or  as  the  Scotch  say,  and  we  ought  to  say.  Airis  : 
the  Sitting  room  itself  commanded  three  ;  another  came  to  view 
in  the  ScMafgemach  (Bed-room)  at  the  the  opposite  end  ;  to  say 
nothing  of  the  Kitchen,  which  offered  two.  as  it  were  duplicates, 
and  shewing  nothing  new.  Bo  that  it  was  in  fact  the  speculum 
Or  watch-tower  of  Teufelsdrockh  :  wherefrom,  sitting  at  ease,  he 
might  sec  the  whole  life-circulation  of  that  considerable  City  :  the 
streets  and  lanes  of  which,  with  all  their  doing  and  driving  (  Thiui 
mnl  Treiben),  were  for  the  most  part  visible  then 

••  I  look  down  into  all  thai  wasp-nest  or  bee-hive,"  have  we 
beard  him  say.  "and  witness  their  wax-laying  and  honey-making, 
"and  poison-brewing,  and  choking  by  sulphur.  From  the  Palace 
L-  esplanade,  where  music  plays  while  Serene  Highness  is  pleased 
u  to  eat  his  victuals,  down  the  low  lane,  where  in  her  door-sill  the 
M  aged  widow,  knitting  for  a  thin  livelihood,  sits  to  feel  the  after-* 
M  noon  snn1 1  see  it  all :  for,  except  the  Schlosskirche  weathercock, 


REMINISCENCES.  15 


"  no  1>iped  stands  so  high.  Couriers  arrive  bestrapped  and  be-  • 
"  booted,  bearing  Joy  and  Sorrow  bagged  up  in  pouches  of  leather ;  . 
"there,  topladen,  and  with  four  swift  horses,  rolls  in  the^cmrntry^ 
"  Baronand  his  household  ;  here,  on  timber  leg,  the  lamed  Soldier 
"  hops  painfully  along,  begging  alms  :  a  thousand  carriages,  and 
u  wrains,  and  cars,  come  tumblingfin  with  Fopd,  with  young  Hus- 
"  ticity,  and  oljmr^aw^Produce,  inanimate  or  animate,  and  go  . 
"tumbling  out  again  with  Produce  manufactured.  That  living 
"  flood,  pouring  through  these  streets,  of  all  qualities  and  ages, 
i;  knowest  thou  wThence  it  is  coining,  whither  it  is  going  ?  Aus 
"  dcr  Ewigkeit)  zu  dcr  Eicigkclt  hiii :  From  Eternity,  onwards 
"  to  Eternity !  These  are  Apparitions :  what  else  %  Are  they 
"not  Souls  rendered  visible;  in  Bodies,  that  took  shape  and 
"  will  lose  it,  melting  into  air  1  Their  jolid  pavement  is  a  Picture 
"  of  the  Sense  ;  they  walk  on  the  bosom  of  Nothing,  blank  Time 
"  is  behind  them  and  before  them.  Or  fanciest  thou,  the  red 
"  and  yellow  Clothes  screen  yonder,  with  spurs  on  its  heels,  and 
"  feather  in  its  crown,  is  but  of  To  day,  without  a  Yesterday  or  a 
"  To-morrow  ;  and  had  not  rather  its  Ancestor  alive  when  Hengst 
"  and  Horsa  overran  thy  Island  ?  Friend,  thou  seest  here  a 
"  living,  link  in  that  Tissue  of  History,  which,  in  weaves  all  Being  :* 
"  watch  well,  or  it  wiil  be  past  thee,  and  seen  no  more." 

"  Ach-j  mem  Lieber  /"  said  he  once,  at  midnight,  when  he  had 
returned  from  the  Coffee-house  in  rather  earnest  talk,  "  it  is  a 
"true  sublimity  to  dwell  here.  These  fringes  of  lamplight, 
"  struggling  up  through-  smoke  and  thousand-fold  exhalation, 
"some  fathoms  into  the  ancient  reign  of  Night,  what  thinks 
"  Bootes  of  them,  as  he  leads  his  Hunting  Dogs  over  the  Zenith, 
"  in  their  leash  of  j^idereaLfire  I  That  stifled  hum  of  Midnight, 
"  when  Traffic  has  lain  down  to  rest ;  and  the  chariot-wheels  of 
"  "Vanity,  still  rolling  here  and  there  through  distant  streets,  are 
"  bearing  her  to  Halls  roofed  in,  and  lighted  to  the  due  pitch  for 
"  her  ;  and  only  \j£e^and  jMisery,  to  prowl  or  to  moan  like  night- 
"  birds,  are  abroad  :  that  hum,  I  say,  like  the  stertorous,  unquiet 
"  slumber  of  sick  LifeA  is  heard  in  Heaven  !  Oh,  under  that  hid-  / 
" eous  coverlet  of  vapours,  and  putrefactions,  and  unimaginable/ 
"  gases,  what  a  Fermenting-vat  lies  simmering  and  hid !  The/} 
"  joyful  and  the  sorrowful  are  there  ;  men  are  dying  there,  men[ 


16  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

"  are  being  born  :  men  are  praying. — on  the  other  side  of  a  brick 
"  partition,  men  are  cursing  ;  and  around  them  all  is  the  vast, 
"void  Night.  The  proud  Grandee  still  lingers  in  his  perfumed 
"  saloons,  or  reposes  within  damask  curtains  ;  Wn^tchedness  cow- 
"  ers  into  truckle-beds,  or  shivers  hunger-stricken  into  its  lair  of 
"  straw :  in  obscure  cellars,  £>ugc-ct-Xoir  languidly  emits  its 
"  voicc-of-destiny  to  haggard  hungry  ViUians  i  while  Councillor* 
"  of  State  sit  plotting,  and  playing  their  high  chess-game,  where- 
u  of  the  pawns  are  Men.  The  Loj£r  whispers  his  mistress  that 
"  the  coach  is  ready  :  and  she,  full  of  hope  and  fear  glides  down,  to 
u  fly  with  him  over  the  borders  :  the  TJaii^-Rtill  more"  silently,  sets- 
"  to  his  picklocks  and  crowbars,  or  lurks  in  wait  till  the  watchmen 
"  first  snore  in  their  boxes.  Gay  mansions,  wim  supper-rooms, 
"  and  dancing-rooms,  are  full  of  light  and  music  and  high-swelling 
'•hearts;  but,  in  the  Condemned  Cells,  the  pulse  of  life  beats 
"  tremulous  and  faint,  and  bloodshot  eyes  look  out  through  the 
"  darkness,  which  is  around  and  within,  for  the  light  of  a  stern  last 
"  morning.  Six  men  are  to  be  hanged  on  the  morrow  :  comes  no 
"  hammering  from  the  Rabenstein  ? — their  gallows  must  even  now 
"  be  o'building.  Upwards  of  five  hundred  thousand  two-legged 
'•animals  without  feathers  lie  round  us,  in  horizontal  position  J 
'.'  their  heads  all  in  nightcaps,  and  full  of  the  foolishest  dreams. 
"  Riot  cries  aloud,  and  staggers  and  swaggers  in  his  rank  dens  of 
"shame  ;  and  the  Mother,  with  streaming  hair,  kneels  over  her 
"pallid  dying  infant,  whose  cracked  lips  only  her  tears  now 
u  moisten.  —  All  these  heaped  and  huddled  together,  with  nothing 
"  but  a  little  carpentry  and  masonry  between  them  : — crammed 
"in,  like  salted  fish,  in  their  barrel  ; — or  weltering,  shall  I  say, 
"  like  an  Egyptian  pitcher  of  tamed  Vipers,  eaeh  struggling  to  get 
"  its  head  oAim  the  other  :  such  work  goes  on  under  that  smoke- 
•■  counterpane  ! — Bui  Wi  >•/!.•(•?• }  sit  above  it  all  :    1  am  alone 

"  with  the  St.flx«.»- 

\Ye  looked  in  his  face  to  sec  whether,  in  the  utterance  of  such 
extraordinary  Night-thoughts,  no  feeling  might  be  traced  there; 
but  with  the  light  we  had.  which  indeed  was  only  a  single  tallow- 
Ught,  and  far  enough  from  the  window,  nothing  save  that  old 
calmness  and  fixedness  was  visible. 

These  irere  the   Professor's  talking  seasons:  most  commonly 


REMINISCENCES.  17 


he  spoke  in  mere  monosyllables,  or  sat  altogether  silent  and 
smoked  ;  while  the  visitor  had  liberty  either  to  say  what  he  listed, 
receiving  for  answer  an  occasional  grunt :  or  to  look  round  for  a 
space,  and  then  take  himself  away.  It  was  a  strange  apartment  : 
full  of  books  and  tattered  papers,  and  miscellaneous  shreds  of  all 
conceivable  substances,  '  united  in  a  common  element  of  dust.' 
Books  lay  on  tables,  and  below  tables  ;  here  fluttered  a  sheet  of 
manuscript,  there  a  torn  handkerchief,  or  nightcap  hastily  thrown 
aside  ;  ink-bottles  alternated  with  bread-crusts,  coffee-pots,  to- 
bacco-boxes, Periodical  Literature,  and  Blucher  Boots.  Old 
Leischen  (Lisekin,  ;Liza).  who  was  his  bed-maker  and  stove- 
lighter,  his  washer  and  wringer,  cook,  errand-maid,  and  general 
lion's-provider,  and  for  the  rest  a  very  orderly  creature,  had  no 
sovereign  authority  in  this  last  citadel  of  Teufelsdrockh  ;  only 
some  once  in  the  month,  she  half-forcibly  made  her  way  thither, 
with  broom  and  duster,  and  (Teufelsdrockh  hastily  saving  his 
manuscripts)  effected  a  partial  clearance,  a  jail-delivery  of  such 
lumber  as  was  not  Literary.  These  were  her  E rdbebungen 
(Earthquakes),  which  Teufelsdrockh  dreaded  worse  than  the 
pestilence ;  nevertheless,  to  such  length  he  had  been  forced  to 
comply.  Glad  would  he  have  been  to  sit  here  philosophising  for 
ever,  or  till  the  litter,  by  accumulation,  drove  him  out  of  doors : 
but  Leischen  was  his  right-arm,  and  spoon,  and  necessary  of  life, 
and  would  not   lie  flatly  gainsayed.      We  can  still  remember  the 


so  silent  that  some  thought  her  dumb ;  deaf  also 
you  would  often  have  supposed  her ;  for  Teufelsdrockh  and 
Teufelsdrockh  only  would  she  serve  or  give  heed  to ;  and  with 
him  she  seemed  to  communicate  chiefly  by  signs ;  if  it  were  not 
rather  by  some  secret  divination  that  she  guessed  all  his  wants, 
and  supplied  them.  Assiduous  old  dame !  she  scoured,  and 
sorted,  and  swept,  in  her  kitchen,  with  the  least  possible  violence 
to  the  ear  ;  yet  all  was  tight  and  right  there  :  hot  and  black  came 
the  coffee  ever  at  the  due  moment ;  and  the  speechless  Leischen 
herself  looked  out  on  you,  from  under  her  clean  white  coif  with  its 
lappets,  through  her  clean  withered  face  and  wrinkles,  with  a  look 
of  helpful  intelligence,  almost  of  benevolence. 

Few  strangers,  as  above  hinted,  had  admittance  hither:  the 
only  one  we  ever  saw  there,  ourselves  excepted,  was  the  Hofrath 


13  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 

Heuschreckc,  already  known,  by  name  and  expectation,  to  the 
readers  of  these  pages.  To  us.  at  that  period,  ^f^ JPP1,tf i ''] ■  Yjtf[fcp 
seemed  one  of  those  purse-in<"  <1.  crane-necked,  clean-brushed, 
pacific  individuals,  perhaps  sufficiently  distinguished  in  society  by 
this  fact,  that,  in  dry  weather  or  in  wet,  'they  never  appear  with- 
out their  umbrella.'  Had  we  not  known  with  what  'little  wisdom' 
the  world  is  governed  ;  and  how,  in  Germany  as  elsewhere,  the 
ninety  and  nine  Public  Men  can  for  most  part  be  but  mute  train- 
■  bearers  to  the  hundredth,  perhaps  but  stalking-horses  and  willing 
'  or  unwilling  dupes, — it  might  have  seemed  wonderful  how  Ilerr 
Heuschrecke  should  be  named  a  Rath,  or  Councillor,  and  Coun- 
sellor, even  in  Wreissnichtwo.  What  counsel  to  any  man,  or  to 
any  woman,  could  this  particular  Hofrath  give  ;  in  whose  loose, 
zigzag  figure  ;  in  whose  thin  visage,  as  it  went  jerking  to  and  fro, 
in  minute  incessant  fluctuation, — you  traced  rather  confujdon 
worse  confounded  ;  at  most,  Timidity  and  physical  Cold  ?  Some^: 
indeed  said  withal,  he  was  '  the  very  Spirit  of  Love  embodied;'  I 
blue  earnest  eyes,  full  of  sadness  and  kindness  ;  purse  ever  open, 
and  so  forth  ;  the  whole  of  which,  we  shall  now  hope  for  many 
reasons,  was  not  quite  groundless.  Nevertheless  friend  Teufels- 
drockh's  outline,  who  indeed  handled  the  burin  like  few  in  these 
cases,  was  probably  the  best:  Er  hat  Gemuth  und  Geist,  hat 
Igstens  gchabt,  dock  ohne  Organ,  ohnc  Schicksals-gutist)  isi 
gegempartig  aber  halb-zerruttct.  halb^rstarrtj  "  He  has  heart  and 
"  talent,  at  least  has  had  such,  yet  without  fit  mode  of  utterance. 
"  or  favour  of  Fortune  ;  and  so  is  now  half-cracked,  half-congeal- 
"  cd." — What  the  Hofrath  shall  think  of  this  when  he  sees  it, 
readers  may  wonder:  we,  safe  in  the  stronghold  of  Historical 
Fidelity,  arc  carele 

The  main  point,  doubtless,  for  us  all.  is  his  love  of  Teufels- 
droekh,  which  indeed  was  also  by  far  the  most  decisive  feature 
of  Heuschrecke  himself.  We  are  enabled  to  assert  that  he  hung 
on  the  Professor  with  the  fondness  of  a  Boswell  for  his  Johnson. 
And  perhaps  with  the  like  return;  for  Teufeisdrockh  treated  his 
gaunt  admirer  with  little  outward  regard,  as  some  halt-rational 
or  altogether  irrational  friend,  and  at  best  loved  him  out  of  grat- 
itude and  by  habit.  On  the  other  hand,  it  was  curious  to  ob- 
serve with  what  reverent  kindness,  and  a  sort  of  fatherly  protec- 


REMINISCENCES.  19 


tion,  our  Hofrath,  being  the  elder,  richer,  and  as  he  fondly 
imagined  far  more  practically  influential  of  the  two,  looked  and 
tended  on  his  little  Sage,  whom  he  seemed  to  consider  as  a  living 
oracle.  Let  but  Teufelsdrockh  open  his  mouth,  Heuschrecke's 
also  unpuckered  itself  into  a  free  doorway,  besides  his  being  all 
eye  and  all  ear,  so  that  nothing  might  be  lost :  and  then,  at 
every  pause  in  the  harangue,  he  gurgled  out  his  pursy  chuckle  of 
a  cough-laugh  (for  the  machinery  of  laughter  took  some  time  to 
get  in  motion,  and  seemed  crank  and  slack),  or  else  his  twanging, 
nasal  Bravo!  Das  glautf  ich;  in  either  case,  by  way  of  heartiest 
approval.  In  short,  if  Teufelsdrockh  was  Dalai-Lama,  of  which, 
except  perhaps  in  his.- self-seclusion,  and  god-like  Indifference, 
there  was  no  symptom,  then  might  Heuschrecke  pass  for  his 
chief  Talapoin,  to  whom  no  dough-pill  he  could  knead  and  pub- 
lish was  other  than  medicinal  and  sacred. 

In  such  environment,  social,  domestic,  and  physical,  did  Teu- 
felsdrockh, at  the  time  of  our  acquaintance,  and  most  likely 
does  he  still,  live  and  meditate.  Here,  perched  up  in  his  high 
Wahngasse  watch-tower,  and  often,  in  solitujde^putwatching  the 
Bear,  it  was  that  the  indomitable  Inquirer  fought  all  his  battles 
with  Dulness  and  Darkness ;  here,  in  all  probability,  that  he 
wrote  this  surprising  Volume  on  Clothes.  Additional  particu- 
lars :  of  his  age,  which  was  of  that  standing  middle  sort  you 
could  only  guess  at ;  of  his  wide  surtout ;  the  colour  of  his  trou- 
sers, fashion  of  his  broad-brimmed  steeple-hat,  and  so  forth,  we 
might  report,  but  do  not.  The  Wisest  truly  is,  in  these  times, 
the  Greatest ;  so  that  an  enlightened  curiosity,  leaving  Kings 
and  such  like  to  rest  very  much  on  their  own  basis,  turns  more 
and  more  to  the  Philosophic  Class :  nevertheless,  what  reader 
expects  that,  with  all  our  writing  and  reporting  Teufelsdrockh 
could  be  brought  home  to  him,  till  once  the  Documents  arrive  ? 
His  Life,  Fortunes,  and  Bodily  Presence,  aj^jisj:et  hidden  ton- 
us, or  matter  only  of  faint  conjecture.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
does  not  his  Soul  lie  enclosed  in  this  remarkable  Volume,  much 
more  truly  than  Pedro  Garcia's  did  in  the  buried  Bag  of  Doub- 
loons ?  To  the  soul  of  Diogenes  Teufelsdrockh,  to  his  opinions, 
namely,  on  the  '  Origin  and  Influence  of  Clothes,'  we  for  the  pre- 
sent gladly  return. 


20  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 


CHAPTER    IV. 


CHARACTERISTICS. 


It  were  a  piece  of  vain  flattery  to  pretend  that  tliis  Work  on 
Clothes  entirely  contents  us :  that  it  is  not,  like  all  works  of 
Genius,  like  the  very  Sun,  which,  though  the  highest  published 
Creation,  or  work  of  Genius,  has  nevertheless  black  spots  and  j 
troubled  nebulosities  amid  its  effulgence,-^,  mixture  of  insight. 
inspiration,  with  dulness,  double-vision,  and  even  utter  blindn< 

Without  committing  ourselves   to  those  enthusiastic  praises 
and  prophesyings  of  the  Weissnichtivd1  sche  A?izciger,  we  admitted    | 
that  the  Book  had  in  a  high  degree  excited^ns-to  self-activity)  ,. 
yliich__isJ;lie_J3(3st  effect  of  any  book ;  that  it  had  even  operated 
changes  in  our  way  of  thought ;  nay,  that  it  promised  to  prove, 
as  it  were,  the  opening  of  a  new  mine-shaft,  wherein  the  whole 
>  world  of  Speculation  might  henceforth  dig  to  unknown  depths. 
More  specially  it  may  now  be  declared  that  Professor  Teufels- 
droekh's    acquirements,    patience    of   research,   philosophic    and 
even  poetic  vigour,  are  here  made  indisputably  manifest ;   and 
unhappily  no  less  his  prolixity  and  tortuosity  and  manifold  in- 
eptitude ;  that,  on  the  whole,  as  in  opening  new  mine-shafts  is    ' 
not  unreasonable,  there  is  much  rubbish  in  his  Book,  though 
likewise   specimens   of   almost   invaluable    ore.       A   paramount    ' 
popularity  in  England  we  cannot  promise  him.      Apart  from  the 
choice  of  such  a  topic  as  Clothes,  too  often  the  manner  of  treat- 
ing it  betokens  in  the  Author  a  rusticity  and  academic  seclusion,     ' 
unblamable,  indeed  inevitable  in  a  Gferman,  but  fatal  to  his  sue-    j 

cess  with  our  public.  ' 

.Of  good  society  Teufelsdrdckh  appears  to  have  seen, JUttle»  or  ' 

has  mostly  forgotten  what  he  saw.     He  speaks  out  with  a  strange  • 

plainness  ;    calls    many   things  by  their  mere   dictionary  names.  | 

To  lil 1 11  the  Upholsterer  is  no  Pontiff,  neither  is  any  Drawing-  I 


CHARACTERISTICS.  21 


room  a  Temple,  were  it  never  so  begilt  and  overhung  :  '  a  wj^ole 
I  immensity  of  Brussels  carpets,  and  pier-glasses,  and  or-moulu,' 
as  lie  himself  expresses  it,  '  cannot  hide  from  me  that  such  Draw- 
'  ing  room  is  simply  a  section  of  Infinite  Space,  where  so  many 
1  God-created  Souls  do  for  the  time  meet  together.'  To  Teufels- 
*  drockh  the  highest  Duchess  is  respectable,  is  venerable  ;  but 
nowise  for  her  pearl  bracelets,  and  Malines  laces  :  in  his  eyes,  the 
star  of  a  Lord  is  little  less  and  little  more  than  the  broad  button 
of  Birmingham  spelter  in  a  Clown's  smock  ;  '  each  is  an  iniple- 
1  ment,!  he  says,  '  in  its  kind  ;  a  tag  for  hook ing-togei her  ;  and,  for 
1  the  rest,  was  dug  from  the  earth,  and  hammered  on  a  stithy 
'before  smith's  fingers.'  Thus  does  the  Professor  look  in  men's 
faces  wij^a^atnuj^Jniimrtiality,  a  strange_  scientific  freedom  ;  /Oj/p  ,- 
like  a  man  unversed  in  the  higher  circles,  like  a  man  dropped  T[fjr 
thither  from  the  Moon.  Rightly  considered,  it  is  in  this  pecu- 
liarity, running  through  his  whole  system  of  thought,  that  all 
these  short-comings,  over-shootings,  and  multiform  perversities, 
take  rise  :  if  indeed  they  have  not  a  second^ource,  also  natural 
enough,  in  his  Transcendental  Philosophies,  and  humc4r  of  look: 
ing  at  all  Matter  and  Material  things  as  Spirit ;  whereby  truly 
his  case  were  but  the  more  hopeless,  the  more  lamentable. 

To  the  Thinkers  of  this  nation,  however,  of  which  class  it  is 
firmly  believed  there  are  individuals  yet  extant,  we  can  safely 
recommend  the  Work  :  nay,  who  knows  but  among  the  fashion- 
able  ranks  too,  if  it  be  true,  as  Teufelsdrockh  maintains,  that 

'within   the  most  starched  cravat  there  passes  a  windpipe  and; 
i 


weasand,  and  under  the  thickliest  embroidered  waistcoat  beats 
'a  heart,' — the  force  of  that  rapt  earnestness  may  be  felt,  and 
here  and  there   an  arrow   of  the  soul  pierce  through.     In  our 
wild  Seer,  shagg}~,  unkempt,  like  a  Baptist  living  on  locusts  and 
wild  honey,  there  is  an  untutored  energy,  a  silent,  as  it  were  un- 
conscious, strength,  which,  ex^e^)TlErtTie"higher  walks  of  Litera- 
ture,   must    be   rare.       Many   a    deep    glance,  and    often   with 
unspeakable  precision,  has  he  cast  into  mysterious  Nature,  and 
the  still  more  mysterious  Life  of  Man.     Wonderful  it  is  with   I 
what  cutting  words,  now  and  then,  he  severs  asunder  the  confu-  ' 
sion  :  sheers  down,  were  it  furlongs  deep,  into  the  true  centre  of  / 
the  matter ;  and  there  not  only  hits  the  nail  on  the  head,  but  J 


22  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


mtk  crushing  force  smites  it  homeland  buries  it-J-On  the  other 

hand,  let  us  be  true  to  admit,  lie  is  the  most  unequal  writer 
i  breathing.  (Often  after  some  such  feat,  he  will  play  truant  for 
long  pages,  and  go  dawdling  and  dreaming,  and  mumbling  and 
maundering  the  merest  commonplaces,  as  if  he  were  asleep  with 
eyes  open,  which  indeed  he  is?} 

Qfjiis  boundless  Learning,  and  how  all  reading  and  literature 
in  most  known  tongues,  from  S l nchoniathon  to  Dr.  Znjtgard, 
from  your  Oriental  Shasters,  and  Talmuds,  and  Korans,  with  Cas- 
sini's  Siamese  Tables,  and  Laplace's  Mccaniquc  Celeste  down  to 
Robinson  Crusoe  and  the  Be/fast  Town  and  Country  Almanack, 
are  familiar  to  him, — we  shall  say  nothing  :  for  unexampled  as  it 
is  with  us,  to  the  Germans  such  universality  of  study  passes  with- 
out wonder,  as  a  thing  commendable,  indeed,  but  natural,  indis- 
pensable, and  there  of  course.  A  man  that  devotes  his  life  to, 
lejaxning.  shall  he  not  be  learned? 

In  respect  of  style  our  Author  manifests  the  same  genial  capa- 
bility, marred  too  often  by  the  same  rudeness,  inequality,  and 
jl  apparent  want  of  intercourse  with  the  higher  classes.  Occasion- 
ally, as  above  hinted,  we  find  consummate  vigor,  a  true  inspiration  ; 
his  burning  Thoughts  step  forth  in  fit  burning  Words,  like  so 
many  fall  formed  Minervas,  issuing  amid  flame  and  splendor  from 
Jove's  head  ;  a  rich,  idiomatic  diction,  picturesque  allusions,  fiery 
poetic  emphasis,  or  quaint  tricksy  turns ;  all  the  graces  and  ter- 
rors of  a  wild  Imagination,  wedded  to  the  clearest  Intellect, 
alternate  in  beautiful  vicissitude.  Were  it  not  that  sheer  sleep- 
ing and  soporific  passages;  circumlocutions,  repetitions,  touches 
even  of  pure  doting  jargon,  so  often  intervene  !  On  the  whole, 
Professor  Teufelsdrockh  is  not  a  cultivated  writer.  Of  his  sen- 
1  tences  perhaps  not  more  than  nine  tenths  stand  straight  on  their 
|  legs;  the  remainder  arc  in  quite  angular  attitudes,  buttressed  up 
by  props  (of  parentheses  and  dashes),  and  ever  with  this  or  the 
other  tagrag  hanging  from  them;  a  few  even  sprawl  out  help- 
lessly on  all  sides,  quite  broken-backed  and  dismembered. 
Nevertheless,  in  almost  his  very  worst  moods,  there  lies  in  him  a 
singular  attraction.  A  wild  tone  pervades  the  whole  utterance 
of  the  man,  like  Ids  keynote  and  regulator  ;  now  screwing  itself 
aloft  as  into   the    Song  (if  Spirits,  or  else   the  shrill   mockery  of 


CHARACTERISTICS. 


Fiends ;  now  sinking  in  cadences,  not  without  melodious  hearti- 
ness, though  sometimes  abrupt  enough,  into  the  common  pitch, 
when  we  hear  it  only  as  a  monotonous  hum  ;  of  which  hum  the 
true  character  is  extremely  difficult  to  fix.  Up  to  this  hour  we 
have  never  fully  satisfied  ourselves  whether  it  is  a  tone  and  hum 
of  real  Humour,  which  we  reckon  among  the  very  highest  quali- 
ties of  genius,  or  some  echo  of  mere  Insanity  and  Inanity,  which 
doubtless  ranks  below  the  very  lowest. 

Under  a  like  difficulty,  in  spite  even  of  our  personal  inter- 
course, do  we  still  lie  with  regard  to  the  ExQ£Qa&or-'s~JiioraLie.el- 
ing.  Gleams  of  an  ethereal  Love  burst  forth  from  him,  soft 
wailings  of  infinite^Pity  ;  he  could  clasp  the  whole  Universe 
into  his  bosom,  and  keep  it  warm  ;  it  seems  as  if  under  that  rude 
exterior  there  dwelt  a  very  seraph.  Then  again  he  is  so  sly  and 
still,  so  hnperturbably  saturnine  ;  shews  such  indifference,  malign 
coolness  towards  all  that  men  strive  after ;  and  ever  with  some 
half-visible  wrinkle  of  a  bitter  sardonic  humour,  if  indeed  it  be 
not  mere  stolid  callousness, — that  you  look  on  him  almost  witlna 
shudder,  as  on  some  incarnate  Mephistopheles,  to  whom  this  grec 
terrestrial  and  celestial  Round,  after  all,  were  but  some  huge  fool 
ish  "Whirligig,  where  kings  and  beggars,  and  angels  and  demon^ 
and  stars  and  street  sweepings,  were  chaotically  whirled,  iW 
which  only  children  could  take  interest.  His  look,  as  we  men- 
tioned, is  probably  the  gravest  ever  seen  :  yet  it  is  not  of  that 
Gast^ron  gravity  frequent  enough  among  our  own  Chancery  sui- 
tors ;  but  rather  the  gravity  as  of  some  silent,  high-encircled 
mountain  pool,  perhaps  the  crater  of  an  extinct  volcano  ;  into 
whose  black  deeps  you  fear  to  gaze :  those  eyes,  those  lights  that 
sparkle  in  it,  may  indeed  be  reflexes  of  the  heavenly  Stars,  but 
perhaps  also  glances  from  the  region  of  Nether  Fire  ! 

Certainly  a  most  involved,  self-secluded,  altogether  enigmatic 
nature,  this  of  Tcufelsdrocldi !  Here,  however,  we  gladly  recall 
to  mind  that  once  we  saw  him  laugh  ;  once  only,  perhaps  it  was 
the  first  and  last  time  in  his  life;  but  then  such  a  peal  of 
laughter,  enough  to  have  awakened  the  Seven  Sleepers !  It  was 
of  Jean  Paul's  doing  :  some  single  billow  in  that  vast  World- 
Mahlstrom  of  Humour,  with  its  heaven-kissing  Coruscations) 
which  is  now,  alas,  all  congealed  in  the  frost  of  Death  !     The 


24  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

large-bodied  Poet  and  the  small,  both  large  enough  in  soul,  sat 
talking  miscellaneously  together,  the  present  Editor  being  privi- 
leged to  listen  ;  and  now  Paul,  in  his  serious  way.  was  giving  one 
of  those  inimitable  '  Extra-harangues  ;'  and,  as  it  chanced,  On 
the  Proposal  for  a  Cast-metal  King  :  gradually  a  light  kindled 
in  our  Professor's  eyes  and  face,  a  beaming,  mantling,  loveliest 
light ;     through    those    murky   features,    a    radiant   ever-young 
Apollo  looked  ;  and  he  burst  forth  like  the  neighing  of  all  Tat- 
tersall'Sj — tears  streaming  down  his  cheeks,  pipe  held  aloft,  foot 
clutched    into    the    air, — loud,  long  continuing,   uncontrollable  ; 
a  laugh  not  of  the  face  and  diaphragm  only,  but  of  the  whole 
man  from  head  to  heel.      The  present  Editor,  who  laughed  in- 
deed, yet  with  measure,  began  to  fear  all  was  not  right :  however. 
Teufelsdroekh  composed  himself,  and  sank  into  his  old  stillness  ; 
on  his  inscrutable  countenance  there  was,  if  anything,  a  Blight 
look  of  shame  ;  and  Bichter  himself  could  not  rouse  him  again. 
Readers  who  have  any  tincture  *of  Psychology  know  how  much 
J   [is  to  be  inferred  from  this  :  andithat  no  man  who  has  once  heart- 
ily  and    wholly  laughed    can   be  altogether  irreclaimably   badjj 
|  How  much  lies   in  Laughter:   the  cipher-key,  wherewith  we  deei- 
jpher  the  whole  man!     .Some   men   wear  an  everlasting  barren 
I  simper  ;  in  the  smile  of  others  lies  a  cold  glitter  as  of  ice:  the 
I  fewest  are  able  to  laugh,  what  can  be  called  laughing,  but  only 
/  sniff  and  titter  and  snigger  from  the  throat  outwards  :  or  at  best, 
produce  some  whiffling  husky  eachinuation.  as  if  they  were  laugh- 
in-'  through  wool:    of  none   such   comes  good.     The  man   who 
cannot  laugh   is  not  only  lit   for  treasons,  stratagems,  and  spoils  ; 
but  his  whole  life  is  already  B  treason  and  a  stratagem. 

Considered  as  an  Author.  Herr  Teufelsdroekh  has  one  scarcely 
pardonable  fault,  doubtless  his  worst  :  an  almost  total  want  of 
arrangement.  In  this  remarkable  Volume,  it  is  true,  his  adhe- 
rence to  the  mere  course  of  Time  produces,  through  the  Nar- 
rative portions,  a  certain  shew  of  outward  method  :  but  of  true 
logical  method  and  setpience  there  is  too  little.  Apart  from 
its  multifarious  sections  and  subdivisions,  the  Work  naturally 
falls  into  two  Parts  j  a  Historical-Descriptive,  and  a  Philosophic 
cal  Speculative  but  falls,  unhappily,  by  no  firm  line  of  demar- 
cation ;   in  that   labyrinthic  combination,  each  Tart  overlaps,  and 


CHARACTERISTICS.  25 


indents,  and  indeed  runs  quite  through  the  other.  Many  sec- 
tions are  of  a  debatable  rubric,  or  even  quite  nondescript  and  un- 
nanieable  ;  whereby  the  Book  not  only  loses  in  accessibility,  but 
too  often  distresses  us  like  some  mad  banquet,  wherein  all 
courses  had  been  confounded,  and  fish  and  flesh,  soup  and  solid, 
oyster-sauce,  lettuces,  Rhine-wine  and  French  mustard,  were 
hurled  into  one  huge  tureen  or  trough,  and  the  hungry  Public 
invited  to  help  itself.  To  bring  what  order  we  can  out  of  this 
Chaos  shall  be  part  of  our  endeavour. 


26  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


CHAPTER    V 


THE    WORLD    IN    CLOTHES. 


1  As  Montesquieu  wrote  a  Spirit  of  Laws,1  observes  our  Profes- 
sor, '  so  could  I  write  a  Spirit,  nf  n/nthrs  ;  thus,  with  an  Esprit 
'  cles  Loix,  properly  an  Esprit  de  Coutumes,  we  should  have  an 
'  Esprit  de  Costumes.  For  neither  in  tailoring  nor  in  legislating 
'  does  man  proceed  by  mere  Accident,  but  the  hand  is  ever  guided 
'  on  by  mysterious  operations  of  the  mind.  In  all  his  Modes, 
'-  and  habilatory  endeavours,  an  Architectural  Idea  will  be  found 
'•  lurking  jjhis  Body  and  the  Cloth  are  the  site  and  materials 
'•  whereon  and  whereby  his  beautified  edifice,  of  a  Person,  is  to 
'  be  built.'))  Whether  he  flows  gracefully  out  in  folded  mantles, 
'  based  on  light  sandals ;  tower  up  in  high  headgear,  from  amid 
'  peaks,  spangles  and  bell-girdles  ;  swell  out  in  starch  ruffs,  buck- 
'  ram  stuffings  and  monstrous  tuberosities ;  or  gi^tli  himself  into 
'  separate  sections,  and  front  the  world  an  Agglomeration  of  four 
'  limbs, — will  depend  on  the  nature  of  such  xirchitectural  Idea  : 
'  whether  Grecian,  Gothic,  Later-Gothic,  or  altogether  Modern, 
'and  Parisian  or  Anglo-Dandieal.  |  Again,  what  meaning  lies  in 
1  Colour  !  From  the  soberest  drab  to  the  high-flaming  scarlet, 
s.-il  idiosyncrasies  unfold  themselves  in  choice  of  Colour: 
'if  t  lie    Cut    be  I  1    T.ileriVso  doBS^-tho.  -Lktkmf 

'  hptnl-pr^JTemper  and  Heart.  In  all  which,  among  nations  as 
'among  individuals,  there  is  an  incessant,  indubitable,  though 
'  infinitely  complex  working  of  Cause  and  Effect  :  every  snip  of 
'the  Scissors  has  bees  regulated  and  prescribed  by  ever-activii 
Influences,  which  doubtless  to  Intelligences  of  a  superior  order. 


I    nil   LlV^Ll^t/O,      IWIH     II      UUUUUCOT      HJ        XLll 

;  are  neither  invisible  uor  illegible. 


'For  such  superior  Intelligences  a  Camse-and-Efiect  Philoso-. 
'  phy  of  Clothes,  as  of  Laws,  were  probably  a  comfortable  winter-. 
'  evening  entertainment:  nevertheless,  for  inferior  Intelligences, 


THE  WORLD   IN   CLOTHES.  27 

like  men,  such  Philosophies  have  always  seemed  to  me  unin- 

structive  enough.     Nay,  what  is  your  Montesquieu  himself  but 

a  clever  infant  spelling  Letters  from  a  hieroglyphical  prophetic 

'  Book;  the  lexicon  of  which  lies  in  Eternity,  in  Heaven  1 — Let 

any  Cause-and-Effect  Philosopher  explain,  not  why  I  wear  such 

and  such  a  Garment,  obey  such  and  such  a  Law;  but  even  why 

'  /am  here,  to  wear  and  obey  any  thing  ! — Much,  therefore,  if  not 

'  the  whole,  of  that  same  Spirit  of  Clothes  I  shall  suppress,  as 

'  hypothetical,  ineffectual,  and  even  impertinent :  naked  Pacts, 

'and   Deductions  drawn  therefrom  in  quite  another  than  that 

'  omniscient  style,  are  my  humbler  and  proper  province.' 

Acting  on  which  prudent  restriction,  Teufelsdrockh  has  never- 
theless contrived  to  take  in  a  well-nigh  boundless  extent  of  field  ;  «■ 
at  least,  the  boundaries  too  often  lie  quite  beyond  our  horizon.  *" 
Selection  being  indispensable,  we  shall  here  glance  over  his  First 
Part  only  in  the  most  cursory  manner.     This  First  Part  is,  no 
doubt,  distinguished  by  omnivorous  learning,  and  utmost  patience 
and  fairness :  at  the  same  time,  in  its  results  and  delineations,  it 
is  much  more  likely  to  interest  the  Compilers  of  some  Library 
of  General,  Entertaining,  Useful,  or   even  Useless  Knowledge 
than  the  miscellaneous  readers  of  these  pages.     Was  it  this  Par; 
of  the  Book  which  Heuschrecke  had  in  view,  when  he  recom- 
mended us  to  that  joint-stock  vehicle  of  publication,  '  at  present  ~ 
the  glory  of  British  Literature  V     If  so,  the  Library  Editors  are 
welcome  to  dig  in  it  for  their  own  behoof. 

To  the  First  Chapter,  which  turns  on  Paradise  and  Fig-leave.-, 
and  leads  us  into  interminable  disquisitions  of  a  mythological, 
metaphorical,  cabalistico-sartorial  and  quite  antediluvian  cast,  we 
shall  content  ourselves  with  giving  an  unconcerned  approval. 
Still  less  have  we  to  do  with  '  Lilis,  Adam's  first  wife,  whom, 
'according  to  the  Talmudists,  he  had  before  Eve,  and  who  bore 
'  him,  in  that  wedlock,  the  whole  progeny  of  aerial,  aquatic,  and 
'  terrestrial  Devils.' — very  needlessly,  we  think.  On  this  portion 
of  the  Work,  with  its  profound  glances  into  the  Adam-Kadmon, 
or  P_rimeval_Elei!ieiit.  here  strangely  brought  into  relation  with 
the  Nifl  and  Muspel  (Darkness  and  Light)  of  the  antique  North, 
it  may  be  enough  to  say  that  its  correctness  of  deduction,  and 


28  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

depth  of  Talmudic  and  Babbinieal  lore  have  filled  perhaps  not 
the  worst  Hebraist  in  Britain  with  something  like  astonishment. 

But  quitting  this  twilight  region,  Tcufelsdrockh  hastens  from 
the  Tower  of  Babel,  to  follow  the  dispersion  of  Mankind  over  the 
whole  habitable  and  habjlaj^e  globe.  Walking  by  the  light  of 
Oriental,  Pelasgic,  Scandinavian,  Egyptian,  Otaheitean,  Ancient 
and  Modern  researches  of  every  conceivable  kind,  he  strives  to 
give  us  in  compressed  shape  (as  the  Nurnbergers  give  an  Orbis 
Pidus)  an  Orbis  Vestitus  A\pr  view  of  the  costumes  of  all  mankind, 
in  all  countries,  in  all  timesS\  It  is  here  that  to  the  Antiquarian, 
to  the  Historian,  we  can  triumphantly  say :  Fall  to  !  Here  is 
Learning  :  an  irregular  Treasury,  if  you  will ;  but  inexhaustible 
as  the  Hoard  of  King  Nibelung,  which  twelve  wagons  in  twelve 
days,  at  the  rate  of  three  journeys  a  day,  could  not  carry  off. 
Sheepskin  cloaks  and  wampum  belts  ;  phylacteries,  stoles,  albs  ; 
chlamides,  togas,  Chinese  silks,  Afghaun  shawls,  trunk-hose,  leather 
breeches,  Celtic  philibegs  (though  breeches,  as  the  name  Gallia 
Braccata  indicates,  are  the  more  ancient),  Hussar  cloaks,  Van- 
dyke tippets,  ruffs,  fardingales,  are  brought  vividly  before  us, — 
even  the  Kilmarnock  nightcap  is  not  forgotten.  For  most  part 
too  we  must  admit  that  the  Learning,  heterogeneous  as  it  is,  and 
tumbled  down  quite  pell-mell,  is  true  concentrated  and  purified 
Learning,  the  drossy  parts  smelted  out  and  thrown  aside. 

Philosophical  reflections  intervene,  and  sometimes  touching  pic- 
tures of  human  life.  Of  this  sort  the  following  has  surprised  us. 
The  first  purpose  of  clothes,  as  our  Professor  imagines,  was  not 
warmth  or  decency,  but  ornament     'Miserable  indeed,' says  he, 

•  was  the  condition  of  the  Aboriginal  Savage,  glaring  fiercely  from 
'  under  his  fleece  of  hair,  which  with  the  beard  reached  down  to 
'his  loins,  and  hung  round  him  like  ;i  matted  clonk  :  the  rest  of 
'his  body  Bheeted    in  its   thick  natural  fell.      lie  loitered  in    the 

'sunny  glades  of  the  forest,  living  on  wild  Bruits;  or.  as  the  an- 
'  cient  Caledonian,  squatted  himself  in  morasses,  lurking  for  his 

•  bestial  or  human  prey:  without  implements,  without  arms,  save 
'  the  ball  of  heavy  Flint,  to  which,  that  his  sole  possession  and  de- 
■  l'<  Qoe  might  Dot  be  lost,  he  had  attached  a  long  cord  of  plaited 
k  thongSj  thereby  recovering  as  will  as  hurling  it  with  deadly  un- 
'  erring  skill.    Nevertheless,  the  pains  of  1 1  unger  and  l\evenge_once 


THE  WORLD  IN  CLOTHES.  29 

i *  satisfi^JJiisjig^L£aX£-  was-iiot  Camioi^L^Si^ggU^Jl^Jlutz ) .       £ 

*  Warmth  he  found  in  the  toils  of  the  chase  :  or  amid  dried  leaves 
1  in  his  hollow  tree,  in  his  bark  shed,  or  natural  grotto :  but  for 
1  Decoration  he  must  have  Clothes.  Nay,  among  wild  people,  we 
1  find  tattooing  and  painting  even  prior  to  Clothes.  The  first 
'  spiritual  want  of  a  barbarous  man  is  Decoration,  as  indeed  we 
i  still  see  among  the  barbarous  classes  in  civilized  countries. 

'  Reader,  the  heaven-inspired  melodious  Singer :  loftiest  Se- 
{  rene  Highness  :  nay  thy  own  amber-locked,  snow-and-rosebloom 
1  Maiden,  worthy  to  glide  sylphlike  almost  on  air,  whom  thou 
1  lovest,  worshippest  as  a  divine  Presence,  which,  indeed,  symboli- 
1  cally  taken,  she  is — has  descended,  like  thyself,  from  that  same 
'  hair-mantled,  flint-hurling  Aboriginal  Anthropophagus  !  Out 
1  of  the  eater  cometh  forth  meat ;  out  of  the  strong  cometh  forth 
'  sweetness.  What  changes  are  wrought,  not  by  Time,  yet  in 
'  Time!  For  not  Mankind  only,  but  all  that  Mankind  does  or 
1  beholds,  is  in  continual  growth,  re-genesis  and  self-perfecting  vi- 
'  talify.  Cast  forth  thy  Act,  thy  Word,  into  the  ever-living,  ever- 
'  working  Universe  :  it  is  a  seed-grain  that  cannot  die  ;  unnoticed 
f '  to-day  (says  one),  it  will  be  found  flourishing  as  a  Banyan-grove 
(l  (perhaps,  alas,  as  a  Hemlock-forest!)  after  a  thousand  years. 

'  He  who  first  shortened  the  labour  of  Copyists  by  device  of 
'  Movable  Types  was  disbanding  hired  Armies,  and  cashiering 
i  most  Kings  and  Senates,  and  creating  a  whole  new  Democratic 
'  world :  he  had  invented  the  Art  of  Printing.  The  first  ground 
'  handful  of  Nitre,  Sulphur,  and  Charcoal  drove  Monk  Schwartz's 
1  pestel  through  the  ceiling:  what  will  the  last  do?  Achieve  the 
'  final  undisputed  prostration  of  Force  under  Thought,  of  Animal 
'  courage  under  Spiritual.     A  simple  invention  it  was  in  the  old- 

*  world  Grazier, — sick  of  lugging  his  slow  Ox  about  the  country 
1  till  he  got  it  bartered  for  corn  or  oil, — to  take  a  piece  of  Lea- 
'  ther,  and  thereon  scratch  or  stamp  the  mere  Figure  of  an  Ox 
1  (or  Pecus) ;  put  it  in  his  pocket,  and  call  it  Pecunia,  Money. 
'  Yet  hereby  did  Barter  grow  Sale,  the  Leather  Money  is  now 
1  Golden  and  Paper,  and  all  miracles  have  been  out-miracled : 
'for  there  are  Rothschilds  and  English  National  Debts;  and,! 
c  whoso  has  sixpence  is  Sovereign  (to  the  length  of  sixpence)  over  f 
'  all  men ;  commands  Cooks  to  feed  him,  Philosophers  to  teach   j 


30  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

i  hiin,  Kings  to  mount  guard  over  him, — to  the  length  of  six- 
'  pence. — Clothes  too,  which  began  in  foolishest  love  of  Orna- 
'  nient,  what  have  they  not  become !  Increased  Security,  and 
'  pleasurable  Heat  soon  followed  :  but  what  of  these  ?  Shame, 
—  '  divine  Shame  [Schaam,  Modesty),  as  yet  a  stranger  to  the  Anthro- 
'  pophagous  bosom,  arose  there  mysteriously  under  Clothes ;  a 
1  mystic  grove-encircled  shrine  for  the  Holy  in  man.  Clothes 
'  gave  us  individuality,  distinctions,  social  polity ;  Clothes  have 
'made  Men  of  us:  they  are  threatening  to  make  Clothes-screens 

•  <>f  US. 

1  But  on  the  whole,'  continues  our  eloquent  Professor,  \  Man  is 
| }  '  a  Tool-using  Animal  (Hanthicr cades  Thicr).  Weak  in  himself, 
1  and  of  small  stature,  he  stands  on  a  basis,  at  most  for  the  flat- 
'  test-soled,  of  some  half  square-foot,  insecurely  enough  ;  has  to 
'  straddle  out  his  legs,  lest  the  very  wind  supplant  him.  Feeblest 
'  of  bipeds !  Three  quintals  are  a  crushing  load  for  him  ;  the 
'  Steer  of  the  meadow  tosses  him  aloft,  like  a  waste  rag.  Never- 
'  theless  he  can  use  Tools,  can  devise  Tools :  with  these  the  gra- 
1  nite  mountain  melts  into  light  dust  before  him;  he  kneads  glow- 
'  ing  iron,  as  if  it  were  soft  paste  ;  seas  are  his  smooth  highway, 
1  winds  and  fire  his  unwearying  steeds.  Nowhere  do  you  find  him 
'  without  Tools  ;  without  Tools  he  is  nothing,  with  Tools  he  is  all.' 
Here  may  we  not,  for  a  moment,  interrupt  the  stream  of  Ora- 
tory with  a  remark  that  this  Definition  of  the  Tool-using  Animal, 
appears  to  us,  of  all  that  Animal-sort,  considerably  the  precisest 
and  best  ?  Man  is  called  a  Laughing  Animal :  but  do  not  the 
apes  also  laugh,  or  attempt  to  do  it ;  and  is  the  manliest  man  the 
'  greatest  and  oftenest  laugher?  Teufelsdrockh  himself,  as  we 
said,  laughed  only  once.  Still  less  do  we  make  of  that  other 
French  Definition  of  the  Cooking  Animal;  which,  indeed,  for 
rigorous  scientific  purposes,  is  as  good  as  useless.  Can  a  Tartar 
be  said  to  oook,  when  he  only  readies  his  steak  by  riding  on  it  ! 
Again,  what  Cookery  does  the  Greenlander  use,  beyond  stowing 
up  his  whale-blubber,  as  a  marmot  in  the  like  case,  might  do? 
Or  how  would  Monsieur  Ude  prosper  among  those  Orinocco  In- 
dians who,  according  to  Humboldt,  lodge  in  crow-nests,  on  the 
branches  of  trees;  and,  for  half  the  year,  have  no  victuals  but 
V    pipeclay,  the  whole  country  being  under  water?     But  on  the 


THE  WORLD  IN  CLOTHES.  31 

other  hand,  shew  us  the  human  being,  of  any  period  or  climate, 
without  his  Tools :  those  very  Caledonians,  as  we  saw,  had  their 
Flint-ball,  and  Thong  to  it,  such  as  no  brute  has  or  can  have. 

'  Man  is  a  Tool-using  animal,'  concludes  Teufelsdrockh  in  his  ^X 
1  abrupt  way  ;  '  of  which  truth  Clothes  are  but  one  example  :  and 
1  surely  if  we  consider   the   interval  between   the  first  wooden 
A  Dibble  fashioned  by  man,  and  those  Liverpool  Steam-carriages, 
1  or  the  British  House  of  Commons,  we  shall  note  what  progress 
'  he  has  made.     He  digs  up  certain  black  stones  from  the  bosom 
1  of  the  Earth,  and  says  to  them,  Transport  me  and  this  luggage,    ^ 
c  at  the  rate  of  five-and-thirty  mites  an  hour;  and  they  doit:  he       / 
1  collects,  apparently  by  lot,  six  hundred  and  fifty-eight  miscella- 
1  neous  individuals,  and  says  to  them,  Make  this  nation  toll  for  us, 
1  bleed  for  us.  hunger  and  sorrow,  and  sin  for  us  ;  and  tliey  do  it.' 


I 


32  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


CHAPTER    VI. 


APRONS. 


\? 


'vOne  of  the  most  unsatisfactory  Sections  in  the  whole  Volume 
is  that  on  Aprons.  What  though  stout  old  Gao,  the  Persian  Black- 
smith,'whose  Apron,  now  indeed  hidden  under  jewels,  because 
'  raised  in  revolt  which  proved,  successful,  is  still  the  royal  stand- 
'  ard  of  that  country ;'  what  though  John  Knox's  Daughter, 
'who  threatened  Sovereign  Majesty  that  she  would  catch  her 
.nd's  head  in  her  Apron,  rather  than  he  should  lie  and  b^ 
'  a  bishop  ;'  what  though  the  Landgravine  Elizabeth,  with  many 
other  Apron  worthies, — figure  here  ?  An  idle  wire-drawing  spirit, 
sometimes  even  a  tone  of  levity,  approaching  to  conventional 
satire,  is  too  clearly  discernible.  What,  for  example,  are  we  to 
make  of  such  sentences  as  the  following? 

'Aprons  are  Defences  \  against  injury  to  cleanliness,  to  safety, 
c  !o  modesty,  sometimes  to  roguer}r.  From  the  thin  slip  of 
'  notched  sill:  (as  it  were,  the  Emblem  and  beatified  Ghost  of  an 

•  Apron),  which  some  highest-bred  housewife,  sitting  at  Niimberg 
'Workboxes  and  Toyboxes,  has  gracefully  fastened  on;  to  the 
'  thick  tanned  hide,  girt  round  him  with  thongs,  wherein  the 
'Builder  builds,  and  at  evening  sticks  his  trowel;  or  to  those 
'jingling  sheet-iron  Aprons,  wherein  your  otherwise  half-naked 
'  Vulcans  hammer  and  siaeit  in  their  smelt-furnace. — is  there  not 
'  range  enough  in  the  fashion    ami    hm's  of  this  Vestment  .'       How 

I  i    ii     QOncealedj   how   much    has    boon    defended    in 
Aprons!     Nay.  rightly  considered,  what  is  your  whole  Military 

•  and  Police  Establishment,  charged  at  oncalculated  millions,  but 
'a  \\\y_n>  Bcarlet-coloured,  iron-fastened   Apron,  wherein  Society 

(uneasily  enough) ;  guarding  itself  from  some  soil  and 
sparks,  in  this  Devil's-smithy  ( Teufels-schmiede) of  a  \ 
1  l>ut  of  all  Aprons  the  most  puzzling  to  me. hitherto  has  been  the 


APRONS.  33 


1  Episcopal  or  Cassock.     Wherein  consists  the  usefulness  of  this 

-  Apron  1  The  Overseer  (Episcopus)  of  Souls,  I  notice,  has 
'  tucked-in  the  corner  of  it,  as  if  his  day's  work  were  done :  what 
'  does  he  shadow  forth  thereby  V  &c.  &c. 

Or  again,  has  it  often  been  the  lot  of  our  readers  to  read  such 
stuff  as  we  shall  now  quote  ? 

-  I  consider  those  printed  Paper  Aprons,  worn  by  the  Parisian  j, 
1  Cooks,  as  a  new  vent,  though  a  slight  one,  for   Typography;   ft^ 
'  therefore  as  an  encouragement  to  modern   Literature,  and  de- 

-  serving  of  approval :  nor  is  it  without  satisfaction  that  I  hear  of 

-  a  celebrated  London  Firm  having  in  view  to  introduce  the  same 
'  fashion,  with  important  extensions,  in  England.' — We  who  are 
on  the  spot  hear  of  no  such  thing ;  and  indeed  have  reason  to  be 
thankful  that  hitherto  there  are  other  vents  for  our  Literature, 
exuberant  as  it  is. — Teufelsdrockh  continues :  '  If  such  supply  of 
•  printed  Paper  should  rise  so  far  as  to  choke  up  the  highways 

-  and  public  thoroughfares,  new  means  must  of  necessity  be  had 
1  recourse  to.     In  a  world  existing  by  Industry,  we  grudge  to  em- 

-  ploy  fire  as  a  destroying  element,  and  not  as  a  creating  one. 

-  However,  Heaven  is  omnipotent,  and  will  find  us  an  outlet.  In 
1  the  meanwhile,  is  it  not  beautiful  to  see  five  million  quintals  of 
c  Rags  picked  annually  from  the  Laystall ;  and  annually,  after 

-  being  macerated,  hot-pressed,  printed  on,  and  sold, — returned 

-  thither  ;  filling  so  many  hungry  mouths  by  the  way  %     Thus  is 

-  the  Laystall,  especially  with  its  Rags  or   Clothes-rubbish,  the 


'  grand  Electric  Battery,  and  Fountain-of-motion,  from  which  and 

-  to  which  the  Social  Activities  (like  vitreous  and  resinous  Elec- 

-  tricities)  circulate,  in  larger  or  smaller  circles,  through  the 
'  mighty,  billowy,  stormtost  Chaos  of  Life,  which  they  keep  alive  !' 
— Such  passages  fill  us,  who  love  the  man,  and  partly  esteem  him, 
with  a  very  mixed  feeling. 

Farther  down  we  meet  with  this  :  -  The   Journalists  are  now 
'  the  true  Kings  and  Clergy :  henceforth  Historians,  unless  they 

-  are  fools,  must  write  not  of  Bourbon  Dynasties,  and  Tudors  and 
'  Hapsburgs  ;  but  of  j^tajnjaeiL  Broadsheet  Dynasties,  and  quite 
1  new  successive  Names,  according  as  this  or  the  other  Able 
4  Editor,  or  Combination  of  Able  Editors,  gains  the  world's  ear. 
1  Of  the  British  Newspaper  Press,  perhaps  the  most  important  of 


34  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

'  all,  and  wonderful  enough  in  its  secret  constitution  and  proce- 
'  dure,  a  valuable  descriptive  History  already  exists,  in  that  lan- 
'  guage,  under  the  title  of  Satan 's  Invisible  World  Displayed ; 
'  which,  however,  by  search  in  all  the  Weissnichtwo  Libraries, 
'I  have  not  yet  succeeded  in  procuring  (vermochte  nickt 
'  aufzutreiben)? 

Thus  docs  the  good  Homer  not  only  nod,  but  snore.  Thus 
does  Teufelsdrockh,  wandering  in  regions  where  he  had  little 
business,  confound  the  old  authentic  Presbyterian  Witchfinder, 
with  a  new,  spurious,  imaginary  Historian  of  the  Brittische  Jour- 
nalistik ;  and  so  stumble  on  perhaps  the  most  egregious  blunder 
in  Modern  Literature  ! 


MISCELLANEOUS-HISTORICAL.  35 


CHAPTER    VII. 


MISCELLANEOUS-HISTORICAL. 


Happier  is  our  Professor,  and  more  purely  scientific  and  his- 
toric, when  he  reaches  the  Middle  Aa^es  in  Europe,  and  down  to  the 
end  of  the  Seventeenth  Century  ;  the  true  era  of  extravagance  in 
costume.  It  is  here  that  the  Antiquary  and  Student  of  Modes  comes 
upon  his  richest  harvest.  Fantastic  garbs,  beggaring  all  fancy  of  a 
Teniers  or  a  Callot,  succeed  each  other,  like  monster  devouring 
monster  in  a  Dream.  The  whole  too  in  brief  authentic  strokes, 
and  touched  not  seldom  with  that  breath  of  genius  which  makes 
even  old  raiment  live.  Indeed,  so  learned,  precise,  graphical, 
and  every  way  interesting  have  we  found  these  Chapters,  that  it 
may  be  thrown  out  as  a  pertinent  question  for  parties  concerned, 
Whether  or  not  a  good  English  Translation  thereof  might  hence- 
forth be  profitably  incorporated  with  Mr.  Merrick's  valuable 
Work  On  Ancient  Armour  1  Take,  by  way  of  example,  the  fol- 
lowing sketch  ;  as  authority  for  which  Paulinus's  Zeitkurzende 
Lust  (ii.  678)  is,  with  seeming  confidence,  referred  to : 

'  Did  we  behold  the  German  fashionable  dress  of  the  Fifteenth 
'  Century,  we  might  smile  ;  as  perhaps  those  bygone  Germans, 
1  were  they  to  rise  again,  and  see  our  haberdashery,  would  cross 
'  themselves,  and  invoke  the  Virgin.  But  happily  no  bygone 
i  German,  or  man,  rises  again  ;  thus  the  Present  is  not  needlessly 
'trammelled  with  the  Past;  and  only  grows  out  of  it,  like  a 
'  Tree,  whose  roots  are  not  inter  tangled  with  its  branches,  but 
'  lie  peaceably  under  ground.  Nay  it  is  very  mournful,  yet  not 
(  useless,  to  see  and  know,  how  the  Greatest  and  Dearest,  in  a 
'•  short  while,  would  find  his  place  quite  filled  up  here,  and  no 
1  room  for  him  ;  the  very  Napoleon,  the  very  Byron,  in  some 
'  seven  years,  has  become  obsolete,  and  were  now  a  foreigner  to 
'  his  Europe.     Thus  i»  the  Law  of  Progress  seoured ;  and  in 


36  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

1  Clothes,  as  in  all  other  external  things  whatsoever,  no  fashion 
1  will  continue.  _ 

'  Of  the  military  classes  in  those  old  times,  whose  buff  belts, 
'  complicated  chains  and  gorgets,  huge  churn-boots,  and  other 
'  riding  and  fighting  gear  have  been  bepainted  in  modern  Ro- 
1  mance,  till  the  whole  has  acquired  somewhat  of  a  sign-post 
'  character, — I  shall  here  say  nothing  :  the  civil  and  pacific 
4  classes,  less  touched  upon,  are  wonderful  enough  for  us. 

'  Rich  men,  I  find,  have  Teusinke1  (a  perhaps  untranslateable 
article)  ;  '  also  a  silver  girdle,  whereat  hang  little  bells  ;  so  that 
'  when  a  man  walks  it  is  with  continual  jingling.  Some  few,  of 
'  musical  turn,  have  a  whole  chime  of  bells  ( Glockenspiel)  fastened 
'  there  :  which  especially,  in  sudden  whirls,  and  the  other  acci- 
\'  dents  of  walking,  has  a  grateful  eifect.  Observe  too  how  fond 
'  they  are  of  peaks,  and  Gothic-arch  intersections.  The  male 
'  world  wears  peaked  caps,  an  ell  long,  which  hang  bobbing  over 
'  the  side  (schief)  :  their  shoes  are  peaked  in  front,  also  to  the 
'  length  of  an  ell,  and  laced  on  the  side  with  tags  ;  even  the 
*  wooden  shoes  have  their  ell-long  noses  ;  some  also  clap  bells  on 
'  the  peak.  Further,  according  to  my  authority,  the  men  have 
;  breeches  without  seat  (ohnc  Gesdss) :  these  they  fasten  peakwisc 
'  to  their  shirts ;  and  the  long  round  doublet  must  overlap 
'  them. 

'  Rich  maidens,  again,  flit  abroad  in  gowns  scolloped  out  be- 
'  hind  and  before,  so  that  back  and  breast  are  almost  bare.  Wives 
1  of  quality,  on  the  other  hand,  have  train -gowns  four  or  five  ells 
{ in  length  ;  which  trains  there  are  boys  to  carry.  Brave  Oleo- 
'  patras,  sailing  in  their  silk-cloth  Galley,  with  a  Cupid  for 
1  steersman  !  Consider  their  welts,  a  handbreadth  thick,  which 
'  waver  round  them  by  way  of  hem;  the  long  flood  of  silver  but- 
'  tons,  or  rather  silver  shells,  from  throat  to  shoe,  wherewith 
'  these  same  welt-gowns  are  buttoned.  The  maidens  have  bound 
'■  silver  snoods  about  their  hair,  with  gold  spangles,  and  pendent 
'flames  (Flcwwien),  that  is,  sparkling  hair-drops:  but  of  their 
'mother's  headgear  who  shall  speak?  Neither  in  love  of  grace 
'  is  comfort  forgotten.  In  winter  weather  you  behold  the  whole 
'  fair  creation  (that  can  afford  it)  in  long  mantles,  with  skirts 
'  wide  below,  and,  for  hem,  not  one  but  two  sufficient  handbroad 


MISCELLANEOUS-HISTORICAL. 


'  welts  ;  all  ending  atop  in  a  thick  well-starched  Ruff,  some 
'  twenty  inches  broad :  these  are  their  Ruff-mantles  (Kragen- 
'  mantel). 

i  As  yet  among  the  womankind  hoop-petticoats  are  not ;  but  the 
'  men  have  doublets  of  fustian,  under  which  lie  multiple  ruffs  of 
'  cloth,  pasted  together  with  batter  (mil  Teig  zusammengekleislert), 
1  which  create  protuberance  enough.  Thus  do  the  tw£_ .sexes  vie 
'  with  each  other  in  the  art  of  Decoration ;  and  as  usual  the 
•  stronger  carries  it.' 

Our  Professor,  whether  he  have  Humour  himself  or  not,  ^nani-_ 
fests  a  certain  feeling  of  the  Ludicrous,  a  sly  observance  of  it, 
which,  could  emotion  of  any  kind  be  confidently  predicated  of  so 
still  a  man,  we  might  call  a  real  love.  None  of  those  bell-girdles, 
bushel-breeches,  cornuted  shoes  or  other  the  like  phenomena,  of 
which  the  History  of  Dress  offers  so  many,  escape  him ;  more  es- 
pecially the  mischances,  or  striking  adventures,  incident  to  the 
wearers  of  such,  are  noticed  with  due  fidelity.  Sir  Walter  Ra- 
leigh's fine  mantle,  which  he  spread  in  the  mud  under  Queen 
Elizabeth's  feet,  appears  to  provoke  little  enthusiasm  in  him  ;  he 
merely  asks,  Whether  at  that  period  the  Maiden  Queen  '  was  red- 
'  painted  on  the  nose,  and  white-painted  on  the  cheeks,  as  her 
1  tirewomen,  when  from  spleen  and  wrinkles  she  would  no  longer 
1  look  in  any  glass,  were  wont  to  serve  her  V  We  can  answer  that 
Sir  Walter  knew  well  what  he  was  doing,  and  had  the  Maiden 
Queen  been  stuffed  parchment  died  in  verdigris,  would  have  done 
the  same. 

Thus  too,  treating  of  those  enormous  habiliments,  that  were  not 
only  slashed  and  galooned,  but  artificially  swollen  out  on  the 
broader  parts  of  the  body,  by  introduction  of  Bran, — our  Profes- 


sor fails  not  to  comment  on  that  luckless  Courtier,  who  having: 
seated  himself  on  a  chair  with  some  projecting  nail  on  it,  and 
therefrom  rising,  to  pay  his  devoir  on  the  entrance  of  Majesty,  in- 
stantaneously emitted  several  pecks  of  dry  wheat-dust :  and  stood 
there  diminished  to  a  spindle,  his  galoons  and  slashes  dangling 
sorrowful  and  flajpby  round  him.  Whereupon  the  Professor  pub- 
lishes this  reflection : 

'  By  what  strange  chances  do  we  live  in  History !     Erostra- 
'  tus  by  a  torch  ;  Milo  by  a  bullock  ;  Henry  Darnley,  an  unfledged 


3S  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


'booby  and  bustard;  by  bis  limbs.]  most  Kings  and  Queens  by 
'  being  born  under  such  and  such  a  bed-tester;  Boileau  Des- 
I  preaux  (according  to  Helvetius)  by  the  peck  of  a  turkey  ;  and 
'  this  ill-starred  individual  by  a  rent  in  his  breeches, — for  no  Me- 
'  moirist  of  Kaiser  Otto's  Court  omits  him.  Vain  was  the  prayer 
<  of  Themistocles  for  a  talent  of  Forgetting  :  my  Friends,  yield 
'cheerfully  to  Destiny,  and  read  since  it  is  written.' — Has  Teu- 
fclsdroekh  to  be  put  in  mind  that,  nearly  related  to  the  impossi- 
ble talent  of  Forgetting,  stands  that  talent  of  Silence,  which  even 
travelling  Englishmen  manifest  % 

1  The  simplest  costume,'  observes  our  Professor,  '  which  I  any- 
'  where  find  alluded  to  in  History,  is  that  used  as  regimental,  by 
'  Bolivar's  Cavalry,  in  the  late  Columbian  wars.  A  square 
f  Blanket,  twelve  feet  in  diagonal,  is  provided  (some  were  wont  to 
1  cut  off  the  corners,  and  make  it  circular) :  in  the  centre  a  slit  is 
'  effected  eighteen  inches  long ;  through  this  the  mother-naked 
1  Trooper  introduces  his  head  and  neck  ;  and  so  rides  shielded 
'  from  all  weather,  and  in  battle  from  many  strokes  (for  he  rolls 
'  it  about  his  left  arm) ;  and  not  only  dressed,  but  harnessed  and 
'  draperied.' 

With  which  picture  of  a  State  of  Nature,  affecting  by  its  singu- 
larity, and  Old-Roman  contempt  of  the  superfluous,  we  shall  quit 
this  part  of  our  subject. 

15*      ■ 


THE  WORLD   OUT  OF   CLOTHES. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 


THE    WORLD    OUT    OF    CLOTHES. 


If  in  the  Descriptive-Historical  Portion  of  this  Volume,  Teuf- 
elsdrockh,  discussing  merely  the  Werden  (Origin  and  successive 
Improvement)  of  Clothes,  has  astonished  many  a  reader,  much 
more  will  he  in  the  Speculative-Philosophical  Portion,  which 
treats  of  their  Wirken  or  Influences..-  It  is  here  that  the  present 
Editor  first  feels  the  pressure  of  his  task  ;  for  here  properly  the 
higher  and  new  Philosophy  of  Clothes  commences :  an  untried, 
almost  inconceivable  region,  or  chaos ;  in  venturing  upon  which, 
how  difficult,  yet  how  unspeakably  important  is  it  to  know  what 
course,  of  survey  and  conquest,  is  the  true  one ;  where  the  foot- 
ing is  firm  substance  and  will  bear  us,  where  it  is  hollow,  or  mere 
cloud,  and  may  engulf  us !  Teufelsdrockh  undertakes  no  less 
than  to  expound  the  moral,  political,  even  religious  Influences  of 
Clothes;  he  undertakes  to  make  manifest,  in  its  thousandfold 
bearings,  this  grand  Proposition,  that  Man's  earthly  interests 
'are  all  hooked  and  buttoned  together,  and  held  up,  by  Clothes.' 
He  says  in  so  many  words,  'Society  is  founded  upon  Cloth  ;'  and 
again,  '  Society  sails  through  the  Infinitude  on  Cloth,  as  on  a 
'  Faust's  Mantle,  or  rather  like  the  Sheet  of  clean  and  unclean 
'  beasts  in  the  Apostle's  Dream  ;  and  without  such  Sheet  or  Mantle, 
'  would  sink  to  endless  depths,  or  mount  to  inane  limboes,  and  in 
'  either  case  be  no  more.' 

By  what  chains,  or  indeed  infinitely  complected  tissues,  of  Med- 
itation this  grand  Theorem  is  here  unfolded,  and  innumerable 
practical  Corollaries  are  drawn  therefrom,  it  were  perhaps  a  mad 
ambition  to  attempt  exhibiting.  Our  Professor's  method  is  not, 
in  any  case,  that  of  common  school  Logic,  where  the  truths  all 
stand  in  a  row,  each  holding  by  the  skirts  of  the  other ;  but  at 
best  that  of  practical  Reason,  proceeding  by  large  Intuition  over 


40  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

whole  systematic  groups  and  kingdoms  ;  whereby,  we  might  say, 
an  obi  c  complexity,  almost  like  that  of  Nature^  reigns  in  his  Phi- 
losophy; or  spiritual  Picture  of  Nature:  a  mighty  maze,  yet  as 
faith  whispers,  not  vritnout  a  glafi;  Nay  we  complained  above,'* 
that  a  certain  ignoble  complexity,  what  we  must  call  mere  con-fi 
fusion,  was  also  discernible.  Often,  also,  we  have  to  exclaim :  *' 
Would  to  Heaven  those  same  Biographical  Documents  were 
come !  For  it  seems  as  if  the  demonstration  lay  much  in  the 
Author's  individuality;  as  if  it  were  not  Argument  that  had 
taught  him,  but  Experience.  At  present  it  is  only  in  local 
glimpses,  and  by  significant  fragments,  picked  often  at  wide 
enough  intervals  from  the  original  Volume,  and  carefully  collated, 
that  we  can  hope  to  impart  some  outline  or  foreshadow  of  this 
Doctrine.  Readers  of  any  intelligence  are  once  more  invited  to 
favour  us  with  their  most  concentrated  attention  :  let  these,  after 
intense  consideration,  and  not  till  then,  pronounce,  Whether  on 
the  utmost  verge  of  our  actual  horizon  there  is  not  a  looming  as 
of  Land  ;  a  promise  of  new  Fortunate  Islands,  perhaps  whole  un- 
discovered Americas,  for  such  as  have  canvass  to  sail  thither  ? — 
As  exordium  to  the  whole,  stand  here  the  following  long  cita- 
tion : 

'  With  men  of  a  speculative  turn,'  writes  Teufelsdrockh,  '  there 
'  come  seasons,  meditative,  sweet,  yet  awful  hours,  when  in  wonder 
'  and  fear  you  ask  yourself  that  unanswerable  question  :  Who  am 
'  /  ;    the  thing  that  can  say  ••  I    (das  TVcsen  das  sich  Ich  nenrU)? 

\l  The  world,  with  its  loud  trafficking,  retires  into  the  distance  ; 

,  j'and  through  the  paper-hangings,  and  stone-walls,  and  thick-plied 

S  tissues  of  Commerce  and  Polity,  and  all  the  living  and  lifeless 
integuments  (of  Society  and  a  Body),  wherewith  your  Existence 
;sits  surrounded, — the  Bight  reaches  forth  into  the  void  Deep, 
'and  you  are  alone  with  the  Universe,  and  silently  commune  with 
•  ir  as  one  mysterious  Presence  with  another. 

•  Who  am  I;  what  is  this  Me?  A  Voice,  a  Motion,  an  Ap- 
{  pearance  ; — some  embodied,  visualised  Idea  in  the  Eternal 
'  Mind  1  Cogilo,  ergo  sum.  Alas,  poor  Cogitator,  this  takes  us 
'  but  a  little  way.  Sure  enough  I  am  ;  and  lately  was  not :  but 
'Whence'?      [low?      Wb  The  answer  lies  around,  writter 

'  in  all  colours  and   motions,  uttered   in  all  tones  of  jubilee  anc 


THE  WORLD   OUT   OF   CLOTHES.  41 

wail,  in  thousand-figured.  thousand-voicedv  harmonious  Nature: 

but  where  is  the  gunning  eye  anil  ear  to  whom  that  God-written 

Apocalypse  will  yield  articulate  meaning'?     We    sit   as   in  a 

boundless  Phantasmagoria  and  Dream-grotto  ;  boundless,  for  the 

faintest  star,  the  remotest  century,  lies  not  even  nearer  the  verge       *    L  & 

thereof:    sounds   and   many-coloured   visions   flit   around  ourfl^f* 

sense  ;  but  Him,  the  Unslumbering,  whose  work  both  Dream 

and  Dreamer  are,  we  see  not ;  ^except  in  rare  halt-waking  mo-  4J  ^jL* 


My 


merits. "inspect  not.  Xlreation,  says  one,  lies  before  us,  like  a 
glorious  Rainbow ;  but  the  Sun  that  made  it  lies  behind  us, 
hidden  from  us.  Then,  in  that  strange  Dream,  how  we  clutch 
at  shadows  as  if  they  were  substances  ;  and  sleep  deepest  while 
fancying  ourselves  most  awake  !  'Which  of  your  Philosophical 
Systems  is  other  than  a  dream-theorem  :  a  net  cjuotient.  confi- 
dently given  out,  where  divisor  and  dividend  are  both  unknown  ? 
What  are  all  your  national  Wars,  with  their  Moscow  Retreats, 
and  sanguinary  hate-filled  Revolutions,  but  the  Somnambulism 
of  uneasy  Sleepers  ?  This  Dreaming,  this  Somnambulism  is  what 
we  on  Earth  call  Life  ;  wherein  We"  most"  indeed  nndoubtingly 
wander,  as  if  they  knew  right  hand  from  left :  _yet  they  onlyjire 
wise  who  "know  that  they  know  nothing. 

1  Pity  that  all  Metaphysics  had  hitherto  proved  so  inexpressi- 
bly unproductive !  The  secret  of  Man's  Being  is  still  like  the 
Sphinx's  secret :  a  riddle  that  he  cannot  rede ;  and  for  igno- 
rance of .  which  he  suffers  death,  the  worst  death,  a  spiritual. 
What  are  your  Axioms,  and  Categories,  and  Systems,  and 
Aphorisms?  Words,  words.  High  Air -castles  are  cunningly 
built  of  Words,  the  Words  well  bedded  also  in  good  Logic-mor- 
tar :  wherein,  however,  no  Knowledge  will  come  to  lodge.  The 
whokis  greater  than  the  part':  how  exceedingly  true !  JYaliire 
a  vacuum:  how  exceedingly  false  and  calumnious  !  Again. 
Nothing  caii  act  but  where  it  is  :  with  all  my  heart :  only  where 
is  it  ?  Be  not  the  slave  of  Words :  is  not  the  Distant,  the  Dead^ 
while  I  love  it,  and  long  for  it,  and  mourn  for  it,  Here,  in  the 
genuine  sense,  as  truly  as  the  floor  I  stand  on  1  j/But  that  same 
Where,  with  its  brother,  When,  are  from  the  first  the  master- 
colours  of  our  Dream-grotto;  say  rather,  the  Canvass  (the  warp 
and  woof  thereof)  whereon  all  our  Dreams  and  Life-visions  are 


42  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 

[ 

'  painted.     Nevertheless,  has  not  a  deeper  meditation  taught  cer- 
'  tain  of  every  climate  and  age,  that  the  Where  and  When,  so    ' 
'  mysteriously  inseparable  from  all  our  thoughts,  are  but  super-    j 
'  ficial  terrestrial  adhesions  to  thought ;  that  the  Seer  may  dis- 
'  cern  them  where  they  mount  up  out  of  the  celestial  Every- 
'  where  and  Forever  :  have  not  all  nations  conceived  their  God 
'  as  Omnipresent  and  Eternal ;  as  existing  in  a  universal  Here,    ! 
'an   everlasting  Now?     Think  well,   thou   too  wilt  find   that    | 

Space  is  but  a  mode  of  our  human  Sense,  sO  likewise  Time ; 
1  there  is  no  Space  and  no  Time  :  We  are — we  know  not  what ; 

-light-sparkles  floating  in  tlie  aether  of  Deity ! 

'  So  that  tjria  go  so^id-seeniing  ^Vorld.  after  all,  were  but  an  air-  '< 
' image,  our  Me  the  only  reality:  and  Nature,  with  its  thousand-  ; 
<  fold  production  and  destruction,  but  the  reflex  of  our  own  in-  ■ 
'ward  Force,  the  "phantasy  of  our  Dream  ;"  or  what  the  Earth^"' 
1  Spirit  in  Faust  names  it,  the  living  visible  Garment  of  God  : 

'  "  In  Being's  floods,  in  Action's  storm, 
I  walk  and  work,  above,  beneath. 
Work  and  weave  in  endless  motion  ! 
Birth  and  Death, 
An  infinite  ocean ; 
A  seizing  and  giving 
The  fire  of  the  Living  : 
'Tis  thus  at  the  roaring  Loom  of  Time  I  ply, 
And  weave  for  God  the  Garment  thou  seest  Him  by." 

'  Of  twenty  millions  that  have  read  and  spouted  this  <thunder- 
' speech  of  the  Erdgeist,  arc  there  yet  twenty  units  of  us  that 
'  have  learned  the  meaning  thereof  ? 

'  It  was  in  some  such  mood,  when  wearied  and  foredone  with 
'these  high  speculations,  that  I  first  came  upon  the  question  of 
'Clothes.  Strange  enough,  it  strikes  me,  is  this  same  fact  of 
'  there  being  Tailors  and  Tailored.  The  Horse  I  ride  has  his  own 
'  whole  fell :  strip  him  of  the  girths  and  flaps  and  extraneous 
'  tags  I  have  fastened  round  him.  and  the  noble  creature  is  his 
'  own  sempster  and  weaver  and  spinner  :  nay  his  own  bootmaker, 
'jeweller,  and  man-milliner  ;  he  bounds  free  through  the  valleys, 
'  with  a  perennial  rainproof  court  suit  on  his  body  ;  wherein 
'  warmth  and  easiness  of  fit  have  reached  perfection  ;   nay,  tho 


THE  WORLD   OUT   OF   CLOTHES.  13 

^lAltfl 

'  graces  also  have  been  considered,  and  frills  and  fringes,  with  gay 
'  variety  of  colour,  featly  appended,  and  ever  in  the  right  place, 
'  are  not  wanting.  While  I — good  Heaven  ! — have  thatched  my-  / 
c  self  over  with  the  dead  fleeces  of  sheep,  the  bark  of  vegetables,  .  / 
'  the  entrails  of  worms,  the  hides  of  oxen  or  seals,  the  felt  of 
'  furred  beasts  ;  and  walk  abroad  a  moving  Rag-screen,  over-  \  ■ 
1  heaped  with  shreds  and  tatters  raked  from  the  Charnel-house  of 
'  Nature,  where  they  would  have  rotted,  to  rot  on  me  more  slowly  ! 
'  Day  after  day,  I  must  thatch  myself  anew ;  day  after  day,  this 
'  despicable  thatch  must  lose  some  film  of  its  thickness  ;  some 
'  film  of  it,  frayed  away  by  tear  and  wear,  must  be  brushed  off 
1  into  the  Ashpit,  into  the  Laystall ;  till  by  degrees  the  whole  has 
'been  brushed  thither,  and  I,  the  dust-making,  patent  Rag- 
'  grinder,  get  new  material  to  grind  down.  0  subter-brutish ! 
'  vile  !  most  vile  !  For  have  not  I  too  a  compact  all-enclosing 
'  Skin,  whiter  or  dingier  ?  Am  I  a  botched  mass  of  tailors'  and 
'  cobblers'  shreds,  then  ;  or  a  tightly-articulated,  homogeneous 
'little  Figure,  automatic,  nay  alive  % 

'.Strange -.enough  how  creatures  of  the  human-kin d  shut, their 
'.eyes  to  plainest  facts  ;  and  by  the  .mere  inertia  of  Oblivion  and 
'  Stupidity,  live  at  ease  in  the  midst  of  Wonders  and  Terrors. 
'  But  indeed  man  is,  and  was  always,  a  blockhead  and  dullard  ; 
'  much  readier  to  feel  and  digest,  than  to  think  and  consider. 
'  Prejudice,  which  he  pretends  to  hate,  is  his  absolute  lawgiver  ; 
'  mere  use-and-wont  everywhere  leads  him  by  the  nose  :  thus  let 
'  but  a  Rising  of  the  Sun,  let  but  a  Creation  of  the  World  hap- 
'  pen  twice,  and  it  ceases  to  be  marvellous,  to  be  noteworthy,  or 
'  noticeable.  Perhaps  not  once  in  a  lifetime  does  it  occur  to  your 
'  ordinary  biped,  of  any  country  or  generation,  be  he  gold- 
'  mantled  Prince  or  russet-jerkined  Peasant,  that  his  Vestments 
'and  his  Self  are  not  one  and  indivisible  ;  that  he  is  naked,  with- 
'  out  vestments,  till  he  buy  or  steal  such,  and  by  forethought  sew 
'  and  button  them. 

'  For  my  own  part,  these  considerations,  of  our  Clothes-thatchj 
'  and  how,  reaching  inwards  even  to  our  heart  of  hearts,  it  tailor- 
'  ises  and  demoralises  us,  fill  me  with  a  certain  horror  at  myself 
'  and  mankind  ;  almost  as  one  feels  at  those  Dutch  Cows,  which, 
1  during  the  wet  season,  you  see  grazing  deliberately  with  jackets 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


1  and  petticoats  (of  striped  sacking),  in  the  meadows  of  Gouda. 
'  Nevertheless  there  is  something  great  in  the  moment  when  a 
'  man  first  strips  himself  of  adventitious  wrappages  ;  and  sees 
1  indeed  that  he  is  naked,  and,  as  Swift  has  it,  "  a  forked  strad- 
i  dling  animal  with  bandy  legs ;"  yet  also  a  Spirit,  and  unutter- 
'  able  Mystery  of  Mysteries.' 


ADAMITISM.  45 


CHAPTER    IX. 

ADAMITISM. 


Let  no  courteous  reader  take  offence  at  the  opinions  broached 
in  the  conclusion  of  the  last  Chapter.  The  Editor  himself,  on 
first  glancing  over  that  singular  passage,  was  inclined  to  exclaim  : 
What,  have  we  got  not  only  a  Sansculottistj  but  an  enemy  to 
Clothes  in  the  abstract  ?  A  new  TX^niite~m  this  century,  which 
flaiier-sitself  that  it  is  the  Nineteenth,  and  destructive  both  to 
Superstition  and  Enthusiasm  ? 

Consider,  thou  foolish  Teufelsdrockh,  what  benefits  unspeak- 
able all  ages  and  sexes  derive  from  Clothes.  For  example,  when 
thou  thyself,  a  watery,  pulpy,  slobbery  freshman  and  new-comer  *  j) 
in  this  Planet,  sattest  muling  and  puking  in  thy  nurse's  arms  j^SVt^^^ 
sucking  thy  coral,  and  looking  forth  into  the  world  in  the  blank- 
est manner,  what  hadst  thou  been,  without  thy  blankets,  and  bibs, 
and  other  nameless  hulls  ?  A  terror  to  thyself  and  mankind  ! 
Or  hast  thou  forgotten  the  day  when  thou  first  receivedst 
breeches,  and  thy  long  clothes  became  short  ?  The  village  where 
thou  livedst  was  all  apprized  of  the  fact ;  and  neighbour  after 
neighbour  kissed  thy  pudding-cheek,  and  gave  thee,  as  hansel, 
silver  or  copper  coins,  on  that  the  first  gala-day  of  thy  existence. 
Again,  wert  not  thou,  at  one  period  of  life,  a  Buck,  or  Blood, 
or  Macaroni,  or;  Incroyable,  or  Dandy,  or  by  whatever  name, 
according  to  year  and  place,  such  phenomenon  is  distinguished? 
In  that  one  word  lie  included  mysterious  volumes.  Nay,  now 
when  the  reign  of  folly  is  over,  or  altered,  and  thy  clothes  are 
not  for  triumph  but  for  defence,  hast  thou  always  worn  them  per- 
force, and  as  a  consequence  of  Man's  Fall ;  never  rejoiced  in  them 
as  in  a  warm  movable  House,  a  Body  round  thy  Body,  wherein 
that  strange  Thee  of  thine  sat  snug,  defying  all  variations  of 
Climate?     Girt  with  thick  double-milled  kerseys;    half-buried 


46  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

under  shawls  and  broadbrims,  and  overalls  and  mudboots,  thy! 
very  fingers  cased  in  doeskin  and  mittens,  thou  hast  bestrode  that! 
'  Horse    I  ride  ;'    and,  though  it  were  in  wild  winter,  dashed! 
through  the  world,  glorying  in  it  as  if  thou  wert  its  lord.     Ini 
vain  did  the  slcvot  beat  round  thy  temples ;  it  lighted  only  on  thy  J 
impenetrable,  felted  or  woven,  case  of  wool.     In  vain  did  the! 
winds  howl, — forests  sounding  and  creaking,  deep  calling  unto  ] 
deep, — and  the  storms  heap  themselves  together  into  one  huge! 
Arctic  whirlpool ;  thou  newest  through  the  middle  thereof,  strik-1 
ing  fire  from  the  highway  ;  wild  music  hummed  in  thy  ears,  thou 
too  wert  as  a  '  sailor  of  the  air  :'  the  wreck  of  matter  and  the 
crash  of  worlds  was  thy  element  and  propitiously  wafting  tide. 
Without  Clothes,  without  bit  or  saddle,  what  hadst  thou  been  : 
what  had  thy  fleet  quadruped  been  ? — Nature  is  good,  but  she  is  ] 
nut  the  best  ;  here  truly  was  the  victory  of  Art  over  Nature.     A  ' 
thunderbolt  indeed  might  have  pierced  thee  :  all  short  of  this 
thou  couldst  defy. 

Or,  cries  the  courteous  reader,  has  your  Teufelsdrockh  forgot- 
ten what  he  said  lately  about  '  Aboriginal  Savages,'  and  their 
1  condition  miserable  indeed  V  Would  he  have  all  this  unsaid ; 
and  us  betake  ourselves  again  to  the  'matted  cloak,'  and  go  sheeted 
in  a  '  thick  natural  fell?' 

Nowise,  courteous  reader !  The  Professor  knows  full  well  what 
he  is  saying ;  and  both  thou  and  we,  in  our  haste,  do  him  wrong. 
If  Clothes,  in  these  times,  '  so  tailorise  and  demoralise  us,'  have 
they  no  redeeming  value:  can  they  not  lie  altered  to  serve  better ; 
must  they  of  necessity  be  thrown  to  the  dogs?  The  truth  is, 
Teufelsdrockh,  though  a  Sansculottist,  is  no  Adamite  :  and  much 
perhaps  as  he  might  wish  to  go  forth  before  this  degenerate  age, 
'as  ;t  Sign,'  would  nowise  wish  to  do  it,  as  those  old  Adamites 
did,  in  a  state  of  Nakedness.  The  utility  of  Clothes  is  altogether 
apparent  to  him:  nay  perhaps  he  has  an  insight  into  their  more 
recondite,  and  almost  mystic  < nudities,  what  we  might  call  the 
omnipotent  virtue  of  Clothes,  such  as  was  never  before  vouch' 

tied  to  any  man.     For  example: 

'  You  sec  two  individuals,'  he  writes,  '  one  dressed  in  fine  Bed, 

he  other  in   coarse  threadbare  Blue:  lied  says  to  Blue,  "  Bo 


ADAAIITI-SAI.  47 


'hanged  and  anatomised;"  Blue  hears  with  a  shudder,  and  (0 
'wonder  of  wonders!)  marches  sorrowfully  to  the  gallows  ;  is  there 
'  noosed  up,  vibrates  his  hour,  and  the  surgeons  dissect  him,  and 
'  fit  his  bones  into  a  skeleton  for  medical  purposes.  How  is  this ; 
'  or  what  make  ye  of  your  Nothing  can  ad  but  ivhere  it  is?  Red  has 
'  no  physical  hold  of  Blue,  no  clutch  of  him,  is  nowise  in  contact 
c  with   him :  neither   are  those   ministering  Sheriffs  and  Lord- 

*  Lieutenants  and  Hangmen  and  Tipstaves  so  related  to  command- 
'  ing  Bed.  that  he  can  tug  them  hither  and  thither ;  but  each 
5  stands  distinct  within  his  own  skin.  Nevertheless,  as  it  is 
1  spoken,  so  it  is  done :  the  articulated  Word  sets  all  hands  in 
'  Action;  and  Bope  and  Improved-drop  perform  their  work. 

'  Thinking  reader,  the  reason  seems  to  me  twofold:  First,  thai; 
''Man  is  a  Spirit,  and  bound  -by  invisible  bonds  to  AH  Men; 
'  Secondly,  that  he  wears  Clothes,  which  are  the  visible  emblems  of 
'  thatjafiL  Has  not  your  Bed  hanging-individual  a  horsehair  wig, 
1  squirrel-skins,  and  a  plush  gown ;  whereby  all  mortals  know  that 
'  he  is  a  Judge  ? — Society,  which  the  more  I  think  of  it  astonishes 

*  me  the  more,  is  founded  upon  Cloth-. , 

'  Often  in  my  atrabiliar  moods,  when  I  read  of  pompous  cere- 

*  monials,  FrankfortDoronations,  Boyal  Drawing-rooms,  Levees, 
1  Couchees  ;  and  how  the  ushers  and  rnacers  and  pursuivants  are 
1  all  in  waiting ;  how  Duke  this  is  presented  by  Archduke  that, 
'  and  Colonel  A  by  General  B,  and  innumerable  Bishops,  Adini- 
'  rals,  and  miscellaneous  Functionaries,  are  advancing  gallantly  to 
4  the  Anointed  Presence ;  and  I  strive,  in  my  remote  privacy,  to 
'  form  a  clear  picture  of  that  solemnity, — on  a  sudden,  as  by  some 

1  enchanter's  wand,  the — shall  I  speak  it? — the  Clothes  fly  off  the  t/ 
1  whole  dramatic  corps  ;  and  Dukes,  Grandees,  Bishops,  Generals, 
'  Anointed  Presence  itself,  every  mother's  son  of  them,  stand 
'  straddling  there,  not  a  shirt  on  them  ;  and  I  know  not  whether 
1  to  laugh  or  weep.  This  physical  or  psychical  infirmity,  in  which 
'  perhaps  I  am  not  singular,  I  have,  after  hesitation,  thought 
f  right  to  publish,  for  the  solace  of  those  afflicted  with  the 
<  like.' 

Would  to  Heaven,  say  we,  thou  hadst  thought  right  to  keep  it 
secret !  Who  is  there  now  that  can  read  the  five  columns  of 
Presentations  in  his  Morning  Newspaper  without  a  shudder? 


48  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

FTyjMichouclriac  men,  and  all  men  are  to  a  certain  extent  hypo- 
chondriac, should  be  more  gently  treated.  With  what  readiness 
our  fancy,  in  this  shattered  state  of  the  nerves,  follows  out  the 
consequences  which  Teufelsdrockh,  with  a  devilish  coolness,  goes 
on  to  draw : 

'What  would  Majesty  do,  could  such  an  accident  befall  in 

*  reality;  should  the  buttons  all  simultaneously  start,  and  the  solid 
c  wool  evaporate,  in  very  Deed,  as  here  in  Dream  1     Ach  Gott  I 

*  How  each  skulks  into  the  nearest  hiding-place  ;  their  high  State 
Tragedy    (Havpl-und   Staats- Action)    becomes   a   Pickleherring 

'  Farce  to  weep  at,  which  is  the  worst  kind  of  Farce ;  the  tables 
(according  to  Horace),  and  with  them,  the  whole  fabric  of  Govern- 
/  y  ment,  Legislation,  Property,  Police,  and  Civilized  Society,  are 
c  dissolved,  in  wails,  and  howls.' 

(Lives  the  man  that  can  figure  a  naked  Duke  of  Windlestraw 
addressing  a  naked  House  of  Lords  ?  Imagination,  choked  as  in 
mephitic  air,  recoils  on  itself,  and  will  not  forward  with  the  pic- 
ture. The  Woolsack,  the  Ministerial,  the  Opposition  Benches — 
infandum !  infanduml  And  yet  why  is  the  thing  impossible? 
Was  not  every  soul,  or  rather  everybody,  of  these  Guardians  of 
our  Liberties,  naked,  or  nearly  so,  last  night ;  '  a  forked  Radish 
with  a  head  fantastically  carved  1  And  why  might  he  not,  did 
our  stern  Fate  so  order  it,  walk  out  to  St.  Stephen's,  as  well  as 
into  bed,  in  that  no-fashion  ;  and  there,  with  other  similar  Ra- 
dishes, hold  a  Bed  of  Justice  ?  '  Solace  of  those  afflicted  with  the 
like  !'  Unhappy  Teufelsdrockh,  had  man  ever  such  a  '  physical 
or  psychical  infirmity'  before  ?  And  now  how  many,  perhaps, 
may  thy  unparalleled  confession  (which  we,  even  to  the  sounder 
British  world,  and  goaded  on  by  Critical  and  Biographical  duty, 
grudge  to  re-impart)  incurably  infect  therewith  !  Art  thou  the 
malignest  of  Sausculottists,  or  only  the  maddest  1 

1  It  will  remain  to  be  examined,'  adds  the  inexorable  Teufels- 
drockh, l  in  how  far  the  Scarecrow,  as  a  Clothed  Person,  is  not 
'  also  entitled  to  benefit  of  clergy,  and  English  trial  by  jury :  nay 
1  perhaps,  considering  his  high  function  (for  is  not  he  too  a  De- 
1  fender  of  Property,  and  Sovereign  armed  with  the  terrors  of  the 
\  Law?),  to  a  certain  royal  Immunity  and  Inviolability;  which, 


x 

ADAMITITISM.  49. 


1  however,  misers  and  the  meaner  class  of  persons  are  not  always 
'  voluntarily  disposed  to  grant  him.'     *     * 

*     *     '  0  my  friends,  we  are  (in  Yoriek  Sterne's  words)  but  I 
'  as  "  turkeys  driven,  with  a  stick  and  red  clout,  to  the  market ;;'  I 

•  or  if  some  driveqkas  they  do  in  Norfolk,  take  a  dried  bladder 

•  and  put  peas  in  it/rhe  rattle  thereof  terrifies  the  boldest !' 

4 


50  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 


0 


CHAPTER    X. 


PURE    REASON. 


^ 


It  must  now  be  apparent  enough  that  our  Professor,  as  above 
•   hinted,  is  a  speculative   Radical,  and  of  the  very  darkest  tinge  ; 
|    acknowledging,  for  most  part,  in  the  solemnities  and  parapherna- 
;    lia  of  civilised  Life,  which  we  make  so  much  of,  nothing  but  so 
!    many   Cloth-rags,  turkey-poles,  and  'bladders  with  dried  peas.' 
'    To  linger  among  such  speculations,  longer  than  mere  Science  re- 
quires, a  discerning  public  can  have  no  wish.     For  our  purposes  ■ 
the  simple  fact  that  such  a  Naked  World  is  possible,  nay  actually 
(    exists  (under  the  Clothed  one),  will  be  sufficient.     Much,  there- 
fore, we  omit  about  '  Kings  wrestling  naked  on   the  green  with 
'  Carmen,'  and  the  Kings  being  thrown  :   '•  dissect  them  with  scal- 
.'pels,'  says  Teufelsdroekh  ;    'the    same  viscera,  tissues,  livers, 
'lights,  and  other  Life-tackle  are  there :  examine  their  spiritual 
'  mechanism ;    the    same  great  Need,   great   Greed,  and    little 
1  Faculty  ;   nay  ten  to   one  but   the   Carman,  who  understands 
'  draught-cattle,  the  rimming  of  wheels,  something  of  the  laws  of 
'unstable  and  stable  equilibrium,  with   other  branches  of  wagon- 
:  science,  and  lias  actually   put  forth    liis    hand   and  operated  on 
'Nature,  is  the  more  cunningly  gifted  of  the  two.      Whence,  then, 
'their  so  unspeakable  difference?     From   Clothes.'     Much  also 
we  shall  omit  about  confusion  of  Ranks,  and  Joan  and  My  Lady, 
and  how  it  would  be  every  where  'Hail  fellow  well  met."  and 
Chaos  were  come  again  :   all  which  to  any  one  that  has  once  fairly 
pictured  out  the  grand  mother-idea,  Society  in  a  staL  hassi 

will  spontaneously  suggest  itself.  Should  some  sceptical  indi- 
vidual still  entertain  doubts  whether  in  a  world  without  Clothes, 
the  smallest  Politeness,  Polity,  pr  even  Police,  could  exist,  let 
him  turn  to  the  original  Volume,  and  view  there  the  boundless 
I    Serbonian  Bogs  of  Sansculottism.  stretching  sour  and  pestilential : 


51 

over  which  we  have  lightly  flown  ;  where  not  only  whole  armies 
but  whole  nations  might  sink !  If  indeed  the  following  argument, 
in  its  brief  riveting  emphasis,  be  not  of  itself  incontrovertible  and 
final : 

'  Are  we  Opossums  ;  have  we  natural  Pouches,  like  the  Kan- 
'  garoo  ?  Or  how,  without  Clothes,  could  we  possess  the  master- 
'  organ,  soul's-seat,  and  true  pineal  gland  of  the  Body  Social :  I 
'mean,  a  Purse  V 

Nevertheless  it  is  impossible  to  hate  Professor  Teufelsdrockh ; 
at  worst,  one  knows  not  whether  to  hate  or  to  love  him.  For 
though  in  looking  at  the  fair  tapestry  of.  human  Life,  with  its 
royal  and  even  sacred  figures,  he  dwells  not  on  the  obverse  alone, 
but  here  chiefly  on  the  reverse  ;  and  indeed  turns  out  the  rough 
seams,  tatters,  and  manifold  thrums  of  that  unsightly  wrong-side, 
with  an  almost  diabolic  patience  and  indifference,  which  must 
have  sunk  him  in  the  estimation  of  most  readers, — there  is  that 
within  which  unspeakably  distinguishes  him  from  all  other  past 
and  present  Sansculottists.  The  grand  unparalleled  peculi- 
arity of  Teufelsdrockh  is,  that  with  all  this  Descendentalism,  he 
combines  a  Transcendentalism,  no  less  superlative ;  whereby  if 
on  the  one  EancTlie  degrade  man  below  most  animals,  except 
those  jacketed  Gouda  Cows,  he,  on  the  other,  exalts  him  beyond 
the  visible  Heavens,  almost  to  an  equality  with  the  gods. 

'  To  the  eye  of  vulgar  Logic,'  says  he,  '  what  is  man  ?  An 
'  omnivorous  Biped  that  wears  Breeches.  To  the  eye  of  Pure 
1  Heason  what  is  he  ?  A  soul,  a  Spirit,  and  divine  Apparition. 
1  Bound  his  mysterious  Me,  there  lies,  under  all  those  wool-rags, 
'  a  Garment  of  Flesh  (or  of  Senses),  contextured  in  the  Loom  of 
'  Heaven ;  whereby  he  is  revealed  to  his  like,  and  dwells  with 
1  them  in  Union  and  Division  ;  and  sees  and  fashions  for  him- 
'  self  a  Universe,  with  azure  Starry  Spaces,  and  long  Thousands 
1  of  Years.  Deep-hidden  is  he  under  that  strange  Garment ;  amid 
1  Sounds  and  Colours  and  Forms,  as  it  were,  swathed  in,  and  in- 
'  extricably  over  shrouded :  yet  it  is  sky  woven,  and  worthy  of  a 
(  God.  Stands  he  not  thereby  in  the  centre  of  Immensities,  in 
1  the  conflux  of  Eternities  %  He  feels  ;  power  has  been  given  him 
'  to  know,  to  believe  ;  nay  does*nbTthe  spirit  of  Love,  free  in  its 
1  celestial  primeval  brightness,  even  here,  though  but  for  moments, 


■oS 


SARTOR   RESARTUS. 


1  look  through  ?  Well  said  Saint  Chrysostorn,  with  his  lips  of 
'  gold,  "  the  true  Shekinah  is  Man  :'!  where  else  i  ;  i.i  :.'- 
•  PiiKSExi  i:  manifested  not  to  our  eyes  only,  but  to  our  hearts, 
'  as  in  our  fellow  man  V 

In  such  passages,  unhappily  too  rare,  the  high  Platonic  Mysti- 
cism of  our  Author,  which  is  perhaps  the  fundamental  element  of 
his  nature,  bursts  forth,  as  it  were,  in  full  flood ;  and,  through  all 
the  vapour  and  tarnish  of  what  is  often  so  perverse,  so  mean  in 
his  exterior  and  environment,  we  seem  to  look  into  a  whole  in- 
ward Sea  of  Light  and  Love ; — though,  alas,  the  grim  coppery 
clouds  soon  roll  together  again,  and  hide  it  from  view. 

Such  tendency  to  Mysticism  is  everywhere  traceable  in  this 
man  ;  and  indeed,  to  attentive  readers,  must  have  been  long  ago 
apparent.  Nothing  that  he  sees  but  has  more  than  a  common 
meaning,  but  has  two  meanings  :  thus,  if  in  the  highest  Imperial 
Sceptre  and  Charlemagne-Mantle,  as  well  as  in  the  poorest  Ox- 
goad  and  Gipsy-Blanket,  he  finds  Prose,  Decay,  Contemptibility ; 
there  is  in  each  sort  Poetry  also,  and  a  reverend  Worth.  For 
Matter,  were  it  never  so  despicable,  is  Spirit,  the  manifestation  of 
Spirit :  were  it  never  so  honourable,  can  it  be  more  ?  The  thing 
Visible,  nay  the  thing  Imagined,  the  thing  in  any  way  con- 
ceived  as  Visible,  what  is  it  but  a  Garment,  a  Clothing  of  the 
higher,  celestial  Invisible,  '  unimaginable,  formless,  dark  with  ex- 
cess of  bright?'  Under  which  point  of  view  the  following 
passage,  so  strange  in  purport,  so  strange  in  phrase,  seems  charac- 
teristic enough : 

'  The  beginning  of  all  Wisdom  is  to  look  fixedly  on  Cloth. 
even  with  armed  eyesight,  till  they  become  1  ra n spare nt.  ■■  The 
Philosopher,"  says  the  wisest  of  this  age,  u  must  station  himself 
in  the  middle  :"  how  true  !  The  Philosopher  is  he  to  whom  the 
Highest  has  descended,  and  the  Lowest  has  mounted  up  :  who 
18  the  equal  and  kindly  brother  of  all. 

'  Shall  wre    tremble   before   clothweba   and   cobwebs,  whether 

woven  in  Arkwright  looms,  or  by  the  silent  Arachnes  that  weave 

nnrestingly  in  our  Imagination?     Or,  on  the  other  hand,  what 

is  there  that  we  cannot  love  ;   since  all  was  created  by  God? 

L  Happy  he  who  can  look  through  the   Clothes  of  a  Man  (the 

'woollen,  and  fleshly,  and  official  Bank-paper,  and  State-paper 


PURE   REASON.  03 


'  Clothes),  mtoJhe^M^Jiimself ;  and  discern,  it  may  be,  in  this 
!  or  the  other  Dread  Potentate,  a  more  or  less  incompetent  Diges- 
'  tive-apparatus ;  yet  also  an  inscrutable  venerable  Mystery,  in  the 
'  meanest  Tinker  that  sees  with  eyes !.' 

For  the  rest,  as  is  natural  to  a  man  of  this  kind,  he  deals  much 
in  the  feeling  of  Wonder  ;  insists  on  the  necessity  and  high  worth 
of  universal  Wonder  ;  which  he  holds  to  be  the  only  reasonable 
temper  for  the  denizen  of  so  singular  a  Planet  as  ours.  '  Won- 
'  der,'  says  he,  '  is  the  basis  of  Worship  :  the  reign  of  wonder  is 
*  perennial,  indestructible  in  Man  ;  only  at  certain  stages  (as  the 
1  present),  it  is,  for  some  short  season,  a  reign  in  partibus  infidc- 
1  Hum.''  That  progress  of  Science,  which  is  to  destroy  Wonder, 
and  in  its  stead  substitute  Mensuration  and  Numeration,  finds 
small  favour  with  Teufelsdrockh,  much  as  he  otherwise  venerates 
these  two  latter  processes. 

1  Shall  your  Science,'  exclaims  he,  l  proceed  in  the  small  chink- 
'  lighted,  or  even  oil-lighted,  underground  workshop  of  Logic  alone ; 
'  and  man's  mind  become  an  Arithmetical  Mill,  whereof  Memory  is 
1  the  Hopper,  and  mere  Tables  of  Sines  and  Tangents,  Codification, 
'  and  Treatises  of  what  you  call  Political  Economy,  are  the  Meal  ? 
'  And  what  is  that  Science,  which  the  scientific  head  alone,  were 
1  it  screwed  off,  and  (like  the  Doctor's  in  the  Arabian  Tale)  set 
c  in  a  basin,  to  keep  it  alive,  could  persecute  without  shadow  of  a 


'  heart, — but  one  other  of  the  mechanical  and  menial  handicrafts, 
'  for  which  the  Scientific  Head  (having  a  Soul  in  it)  is  too  noble 
'an  organ  ?  I  mean  that  Thought  without  Reverence  is  barren, 
'  perhaps  poisonous  ;  at  best,  dies  like  cookery  with  the  day  that 
1  called  it  forth ;  does  not  live,  like  sowing,  in  successive  tilths 
'  and  wider-spreading  harvests,  bringing  food  and  plenteous  in- 
\  crease  to  all  Time.' 

In  such  wise  does  Teufelsdrockh  deal  hits,  harder  or  softer, 
according  to  ability ;  yet  ever,  as  we  would  fain  persuade  our- 
selves, with  charitable  intent.  xAbove  all,  that  class  of  '  Logic- 
'  choppers,  and  treble-pipe  Scoffers,  and  professed  Enemies  to 
'  Wonder ;  who,  in  these  days,  so  numerously  patrol  as  night-con- 
\  stables  about  the  Mechanics'  Institu-te  of  Science,  and  cackle, 
( like  true  Old-Roman  geese  and  goslings  round  their  Capitol,  on 
( any  alarm,  or  on  none  :  nay  who  often,  as  illuminated  Sceptics. 


54  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 

'  walk  abroad  into  peaceable  society,  in  full  daylight,  with  rattle 
1  and  lantern,  and  insist  on  guiding  you  and  guardiDg  you  there- 
'  with,  though  the  Sun  is  shining,  and  the  street  populous  with 
'mere  justice-loving  men:'  that  whole  class  is  inexpressibly 
wearisome  to  him.  Hear  with  what  uncommon  animation  he 
perorates : 

'  The  man  who  cannot  wonder,  who  does  not  habitually  wonder 
'  (and  worship),  were  he  President  of  innumerable  Royal  So- 
'  cieties,  and  carried  the  whole  Mccanique  Cdcde  and  Hegel's  Phi- 
'  losophy,  and  the  epitome  of  all  Laboratories  and  Observatories 
1  with  their  results,  in  his  single  head, — is  but  a  Pair  of  Spec- 
'  tacles  behind  which  there. is  no  Eye.  j  Let  those  who  have  Eyes 
'  look  through  him,  then  he  may  be  useful. 

'  Thou  wilt  have  no  Mystery  and  Mysticism  ;  wilt  walk  through 
'  thy  world  by  the  sunshine  of  what  thou  callest  Truth,  or  even 
'  by  the  hand-lamp  of  what  I  call  Attorney-Logic;  and  ".explain" 
'  all,  "account"  for  all,  or  believe  nothing  of  it  ?  Xay.  thou  wilt 
1  attempt  laughter ;  whoso  recognizes  the  unfathomable,  all-per- 
'  vading  domain  of  Mystery,  which  is  everywhere  under  our  feet 
'  and  among  our  hands  ;  to  whom  the  Universe  is  an  Oracle  and 
'  Temple,  as  well  as  a  Kitchen  and  Cattle-stall, — he  shall  be  a 
'  delirious  Mystic ;  to  him  thou,  with  sniffing  charity,  wilt  pro- 
1  trusively  proffer  thy  hand-lamp,  and  shriek,  as  one  injured, 
'  when  he  kicks  his  foot  through  it  1 — Armcr  Teufel !  Doth  not 
'  thy  cow  calve,  doth  not  thy  bull  gender  ?  Thou  thyself,  wert 
'thou  not  born,  wilt  thou  not  die?  "Explain"  me  all  this, 
'  or  do  one  of  two  things :  Retire  into  private  places  with  thy 
'  foolish  cackle  ;  or,  what  were  better,  give  it  up,  and  weep,  not 
'  that  the  reign  of  wonder  is  done,  and  God's  world  all  discinbel- 
•  lished  and  prosaic,  but  that  thou  hitherto  art  a  Dilettante  and 
1  sandblind  Pedant.' 
I 


PROSPECTIVE. 


CHAPTER    XI 


PROSPECTIVE. 


The  Philosophy  of  Clothes  is  now  to  all  readers,  as  we  predi- 
cated it  would  do,  unfolding  itself  into  new  boundless  expansions, 
of  a  cloudcapt,  fimost  chimerical  aspect,  yet  not  without  azure  "huzz 
loomings.in  the  far  distance,  and  streaks  as  of  an  Elysian  bright- 
ness;  the  highly,  questionable  purport  and'promise  of  which  it  is 
becoming  more  and  more  important  for  us  to  ascertain.  Is  that 
a  real  Elysian  brightness,  cries  many  a  timid  wayfarer,  or  the 
reflex  of  Pandemonian  lava?  Is  it  of  a  truth  leading  us  into 
beatific  Asphodel  meadows,  or  the  yellow-burning  marl  of  a  Hell- 
on-Earth? 

Our  Professor, '^ike  other  Mystics'}  whether  delirious  or  in- 
spired, gives  an  Editor  enough  to  do.     Ever  higher  and  dizzier 

are  the  heights  he  leads  US  tO  ;  mnrp  pWr-n-)^  r)n-rnmprPh,PTirljn{y 

all-confounding  are  his  views  and  glances.     For  example,  this  of. 
Nature  being  not  an  Aggregate  but  a  T^.liQle,: 

1  Well  sang  the  Hebrew  Psalmist :  "  If  I  take  the  wings  of  the 
c  morning  and  dwell  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  universe,  God 
1  is  there."  Thou  too,  0  cultivated  reader,  who  too  probably  art 
1  no  Psalmist,  but  a  Prosaist,  knowing  God  only  by  tradition, 
'  knowest  thou  any  corner  of  the  world  where  at  least  Force  is 
1  not  1  The  drop  which  thou  shakest  from  thy  wet  hand,  rests 
'  not  where  it  falls,  but  to-morrow  thou  findest  it  swe.pt  away  ; 
'  already,  on  the  wings  of  the  Northwind',  it  is  nearing  the  Tropic 
'  of  Cancer.  How  came  it  to  evaporate,  and  not  lie  moticmless  1 
'  Thinkest  thou  there  is  aitght  motionless ;  without  Force  and 
1  utterly  dead  ? 

c  As  I  rode  through  the  Sehwarzwald,  I  said  to  myself :  That 

'  little  fire  which  glows  star-like  across  the  dark-growing  (nach- 

le)  moor,  where  the  sooty  smith  bends  over  his  anvil,  and 


X 


SG  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

'  thou  hopest  to  replace  thy  lost  horse-shoe, — is  it  a  detached,  : 
1  separated  speck,  cut  oif  from  the  whole  Universe ;  or  indis-  , 
'  solubly  joined  to  the  whole  ?  Thou  fool,  that  smithy-fire  was  [• 
' (primarily)  kindled  at  the  Sun  ;  is  fed  by  air  that  circulates  c 
'  from  before  Noah's  Deluge,  from  beyond  the  Dogstar  :  therein,  " 
'  with  Iron  Force,  and  Coal  Force,  and  the  far  stranger  Force  ot>V 
'  Man,  are  cunning  affinities  and  battles  and  victories  of  Force; 
'  brought  about ;  it  is  a  little  ganglion,  or  nervous  centre,  in  the  l 
1  great  vital  system  of  Immensity.  Call  it,  if  thou  wilt,  an  un-  ! 
'  conscious  Altar,  kindled  on  the  bosom  of  the  All ;  whose  iron  ' 
1  sacrifice,  whose  iron  smoke  and  influence  reach  quite  through  ; 
1  the  All ;  whose  Dingy  Priest,  not  by  word,  yet  by  brain  and  ' 
'  sinew,  preaches  forth  the  mystery  of  Force  ;  nay  preaches  forth  l 
'  (exoterically  enough)  one  little  textlet  from  the  Gospel  of  Free-  | 
'  dom,  the  Gospel  of  Man's  Force,  commanding,  and  one  day  to  ' 
'  be  all-commanding. 

'  Detached,  separated !     I  say  there  is  no  such   separation  : 
'  nothing  hitherto  was  ever  stranded,  cast  aside  ;   but  all,  wore  it,1 
'only  a  withered  Wf?  w^rks  together  with  all;  is  borne  forward 
'on  the  bottomless,  shoreless  flood  of  Action,  and  lives  through  ; 
'perpetual  metamorphoses.     The  withered  leaf  is  not  dead  andl' 
:  lost,  there  are  Forces  in  it  and  around  it,  though  working  in  in- 
'  verse  order ;  else  how  could  it  rot?     Despise  not  the  rag  from i 
'which  man  makes  Paper,  or  the  litter  from  which  the   Earth i 
'  makes  Corn.  \\Kightly  viewed  no  meanest  object  is  insignificant ; 
'  all  objects  are  as  windows,  through  which  the  philosophic  eye 
'  looks  into  Infinitude  itself* 

Again,  leaving  that  wondrous  Schwarzwald  Smithy- Altar,  what 
vacant,  high-sailing  air-ships  are  these,  and  whither  will  they  sail ' 
with  us? 

'  All  visible  things  arc  Emblems  :  what  thou  seest  is  not  there 
cOB  its  own  account;  strictly  taken,  is  not  there  at  all:  Matter 
'  exists  only  spiritually,  and  to  represent  some  [dea,  and  body  it*1 
'forth.  Hence  Clothes,  as  despicable  as  we  think  them,  are  Bd 
'  unspeakably  significant.  Clothes,  from  the  King's  mantle  down- 
'  wards,  are  Emblematic,  not  of  want  only,  but  of  a  manifold 
'  cunning  Victory  over  Want.  On  the  other  hand,  all  Emblem-^) 
'atic  things  are  proper!)  Clothes,  thought-woven  or  hand-woven: 


PROSPECTIVE.  57 


'must  not  the  Imagination  veuve  Garments,  visible  Bodies, 
'  wherein  the  else  invisible  creations  and  inspirations  of  our  Rea- 
son are,  like  Spirits,  revealed,  and  first  become  all-powerful  : — ■ 
*  the  rather  if.  as  we  often  see,  the  Hand  too  aid  her,  and  (by 
( wool  Clothes  or  otherwise)  reveal  such  even  to  the  outward 
I  eye  ? 

'  Men  are  properly  said  to  be  clothed  with  Authority,  clothed 
'  with  Beauty,  with  Curses,  and  the  like.  Nay,  if  you  consider 
!  it,  what  is  Man  himself,  and  his  whole  terrestrial  Life,  but  an 
|  Emblem  ;  a  Clothing  $r  visible  Garment  for  that  divine  Me  of 
\  his,  cast  hither,  like  a  lignVparticle,  down  from  Heaven?  Thus 
'  is  he  said  also  to  be  clotEecTwith  a  Body. 

I  '  Language  is  called  the  r^nwjjLpf  Thought.:  however,  it 
1  should  rather  be,  Language  is  the  Flesh-Garment,  the  Body,  of 


J  Thought.  I  said  that  Imagination  wove  this  Flesh-Garment ; 
;  and  does  she  not  ?  Metaphors  are  her  stuff :  examine  Lan- 
'  guage  ;  what,  if  you  except  some  few  primitive  elements  (of 
S  natural  sound),  what  is  it  all  but  Metaphors,  recognised  as  such, 
I  or  no  longer  recognised :  still  fluid  and  florid,  or  now  solid- 
I  grown  and  colourless  1  If  those  same-  primitive  elements  are 
1  the  osseous  fixtures  in  the  Flesh-Garment,  Language, — then  are 
!  Metaphors  its  muscles  and  tissues  and  living  integuments.  An 
|  unmetaphorical  style  you  shall  in  vain  seek  for :  is  not  your  very 
|  Attention  a  Stretching-to  ?  The  difference  lies  here  :  some  styles 
1  are  lean,  adust,  wiry,  the  muscle  itself  seems  osseous :  some  are 
1  even  quite  pallid,  hunger-bitten,  and  dead-looking  ;  while  others 
j  again  glow  in  the  flush  of  health  and  vigorous  self-growth,  sonie- 
1  times  (as  in  my  own  case)  not  without  an  apoplectic  tendency. 
!  Moreover,  there  are  sham  Metaphors,  which  overhanging  that 
I  same  Thought's-Body  (best  naked),  and  deceptively  bedizening, 
'  or  bolstering  it  out,  may  be  called  its  false  stuffings,  superfluous 
1  show-cloaks  (Putz-Md/itel),  and  tawdry  woolen  rags :  whereof 
I  he  that  runs  and  reads  may  gather  whole  hampers, — and  burn 
c  them.' 

Than  which  paragraph  on  Metaphors  did  the  reader  ever 
chance  to  see  a  more  surprisingly  metaphorical  %  However,  that 
is  not  our  chief  grievance  ;  the  Professor  continues : 

;  Why  multiply  instances  ?     It  is  written,  the   Heavens  and 

4* 


53  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 


'  the  Earth  shall  fade  away  like  a  Vesture  •  which  indeed  they 


are 


_. — v  _M  ^   .  w„„.w,    . ^j 

(the  Time-vesture  of  the  Eternal.  \  ffi hatsoever  sensibly 
'exists,  whatsoever  represents  Spirit  to  Spirit,  is  properly  a 
'  Clothing,  a  suit  of  Raiment,  put  on  for  a  season  ,  and  to  be 
laid  off.  (Thus  in  this  one  pregnant  subject  of  Clothes,  rightly 
understood,  is  included  all  that  men  have  thought,  dreamed, 
'  done  and  been  :  the  whole  External  Universe  and  what  it  holds 
'  is  but   Clothing ;    and  the  essence  of  all  Science  lies  in  the 

J  Philosophy  of  Clothes.' 

Towards  these  dim  infinitely-expanded  regions,  close-bordering 
on  the  impalpable  Inane,  it  is  not  without  apprehension,  and  per- 
petual difficulties,  that  the  Editor  sees  himself  journeying  and 
struggling.  Till  lately  a  cheerful  daystar  of  hope  hung  before 
him,  in  the  expected  Aid  of  Hofrath  Heuschreeke ;  which  day- 
star,  however,  melts  now,  not  into  the  red  of  morning,  but  into  a 
vague,  gray  half-light,  uncertain  whether  dawn  of  day  or  dusk  of 
utter  darkness.  For  the  last  week,  these  so-called  Biographical 
Documents  are  in  his  hand.  By  the  kindness  of  a  Scottish  Ham- 
burgh Merchant,  whose  name,  known  to  the  whole  mercantile 
world,  he  must  not  mention  ;  but  whose  honourable  courtesy, 
now  and  often  before  spontaneously  manifested  to  him,  a  mere 
literary  stranger,  he  cannot  soon  forget, — the  bulky  Weissnichtwo 
Packet,  with  all  its  Customhouse  seals,  foreign  hieroglyphs,  and 
miscellaneous  tokens  of  Travel,  arrived  here  in  perfect  safety, 
and  free  of  cost.  ■  The  reader  shall  now  fancy  with  what  hot 
haste  it  was  broken  up,  with  what  breathless  expectation  glanced 
over ;  and,  alas,  with  what  unquiet  disappointment  it  has,  since 
then,  been  often  thrown  down,  and  again  taken  up. 

Hofrath  Heuschreeke,  in  a  too  long-winded  Letter,  full  of 
compliments,  Weissnichtwo  politics,  dinners,  dining  repartees, 
and  other  ephemeral  trivialities,  proceeds  to  remind  us  .of  what 
we  knew  well  already  :  that  however  it  may  be  with  Metaphysics, 
and  other  abstract  Science  originating  in  the  Head  (  Verstand) 
alone,  no  Life  Philosophy  (Lebensphilosophie),  such  as  this  of 
Clothes  pretends  to  be,  which  originates  equally  in  the  Character 

.  (GV ////(///),  and  equally  speaks  thereto,  can  attain  its  significance 
till  the  Character  itself  is  known  and  seen  ;  '  till  the  Author's 
'  View  of  the  World  (  WeHcmsicht),  and  how  he  actively  and  pas- 


G 


PROSPECTIVE.  ^  V  KS       59 


\  sively  came  by  such  view,  are  clear :  in  short  till  a  Biography 

I  of  bini  has  been  philosophico-poetically  written,  and  philosophico-      •      i.< 

'  poetically  read.'     '  Nay,'  adds  he,  '  were  the  speculative  scineitfic 

1  Truth  even  known,  you  still,  in  this  inquiring  age,  ask  yourself, 

'Whence  came  it,  and  Why,  and  How? — and  rest  not,  till,  if  no 

'  better  may  be,  Fancy  have  shaped  out  an  answer ;  and  either 

f  in  the  authentic  lineaments  of  Fact,  or  the  forged  ones  of  Fic- 

'  tion,  a  complete  picture  and  Genetical  History  of  the  Man  and 

'  his   spiritual  Endeavour  lies  before,  you.     But  why,'  says  the 

'  Hofrath,  and  indeed  say  we,  '  do  r~dilate  on  the  uses  of  our 

\  Teufelsdro-ckh's  Biography  1      The  great   Herr  Minister  von 

1  G-oethe  has  penetratingly  remarked  that  '-'•  Man  is  properly  the 

( onjv  object  that  inte/qsts  man  :"  thus  I  too  have  noted,  that 

'Inueissnichtwo  our  whole  conversation  is  little  or  nothing  else 

!  but   Biography   or   Autobiography ;    ever    humano-anecdotical 

'  (menschlich-anecdotisch).     Biography  is  by  nature  the  most  uni- 

f  versally  profitable,  universally  pleasant  of  all  things  :  especially 

S  Biography  of  distinguished  individuals. 

'  By  this  time,  mein  Verehrtester  (my  Most  Esteemed),'  con- 
tinues he,  with  an  eloquence  which,  unless  the  words  be  purloined 
from  Teufelsdrockh,  or  some  trick  of  his,  as  we  suspect,  is  welll 
nigh  unaccountable,  '  by  this  time  you  are  fairly  plunged  (verteift) 
'  in  that  mighty  forest  of  Clothes-Philosophy  ;  and  looking  round, 
'as  all  readers  do,  with  astonishment  enough.  Such  portions 
'  and  passages  as  you  have  already  mastered,  and  brought  to 
'  paper,  could  not  but  awaken  a  strange  curiosity  touching  the 
'  mind  they  issued  from ;  the  perhaps  unparalleled  psychical  ■ 
1  mechanism,  which  manufactured  such  matter,  and  emitted  it  to 
'  the  light  of  day.  Had  Teufelsdrockh  also  a  father  and  mother  ; 
'  did  he,  at  one  time,  wear  drivel-bibs,  and  live  on  spoon-meat  ? 
1  Did  he  ever,  in  rapture  and  tears,  clasp  a  friend's  bosom  to  his ; 
'  looks  he  also  wistfully  into  the  long  burial-aisle  of  the  Past, 
'  where  only  winds,  and  their  low  harsh  moan,  give  inarticulate 
'  answer  1  Has  he  fought  duels  ; — good  Heaven  !  how  did  he 
'  comport  himself  when  in  Love  1  By  what  singular  stair-steps, 
'  in.  short,  and  subterranean  passages,  and  sloughs  of  Despair, 
'  and  steep  Pisgah  hills,  has  he  reached  this  wonderful  prophetic 
'  Hebron  (a  true  Old-Clothes  Jewry)  where  he  now  dwells  ? 


CO  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

'  To  all  these  natural  questions  the  voice  of  Public  History 
'  is  as  yet  silent.  Certain  only  that  he  has  been,  and  is,  a  Pil- 
'  grim,  and  Traveller  from  a  far  Country  ;  more  or  less  footsore 
'and  travel-soiled;  has  parted  with  road-companions;  fallen 
:  among  thieves,  been  poisoned  by  bad  cookery,  blistered  with 
'  bugbites  ;  nevertheless,  at  every  stage  (for  they  have  let  him 
'  pass),  has  had  the  -Bill  to  discharge.  But  the  whole  particulars 
'  of  his  Route,  his  Weather-observations,  the  picturesque  Sketches 
'  lie  took,  though  all  regularly  jotted  down  (in  indelible  sym- 
'  pathetic-ink  by  an  invisible  Ulterior  Penman),  are  these  nowhere 
'forthcoming?  Perhaps  quite  lost:  one  other  leaf  of  thatf 
'  mighty  Volume  (of  human  Memory)  left  to  fly  abroad,  imprinted. 
'  unpublished,  unbound  up,  as  waste  paper  ;  and  rot,  the  sport  of 
'  rainy  winds  ? 

'No,  verehrlester  TIerr  Herausgebcr,  in  no  wise!  I  here,  by  the 
'  unexampled  favour  you  stand  in  with  our  Sage,  send  not  a 
'Biography  only,  but  an  Autobiography:  at  least  the  materials 
'  for  such  ;  wherefrom,  if  I  misreckon  not.  your  perspicacity  will 
'  draw  fullest  insight :  ajid  so  the  whole  Philosophy  and  Philoso- 
'  pher  of  Clothes  will  stand  clear  to  the  wondering  eyes  of  Eng- 
'  land,  nay  thence,  through  America,  through  Iiindostan,  and  the 
1  antipodal  New  Holland,  finally  conquer  (emnehmm)  great  part 
'  of  this  terrestrial  Planet!' 

And  now  let  the  sympathising  reader  judge  of  our  feeling 
|whcn,  in  place  of  this  same  Autobiography  with  '  fullest  insight.' 
We  find — Six  considerable  Paper  Bags,  carefully  sealed,  and 
narked  successively,  in  gilt  China-ink,  with  the  symbols  of  the 
Six  southern  Zodiacal  Signs,  beginning  at  Libra;  in  the  inside 
of  which  scaled  Bags  lie  miscellaneous  masses  of  Sheets,  and 
oftener  Shreds  and  Snips,  written  in  Professor  Teufclsdroekh's 

rce  legible  cwrsiv-schrift,  ;  and  treating  of  all  imaginable  things 
u^ider  the  Zodiac  and  above  it,  but  of  his  own  personal  history 
only  at  rare  intervals,  and  then  in  the  most  enigmatic  manner! 

Whole  fascicles  there  are,  wherein  the  Professor,  or.  as  he  here 
speaking  in  the  third  person  calls  himself,  •  the  Wanderer,'  is  not 
once  named.  Then  again,  amidst  what  seems  to  be  a  Metaphy- 
sico-theological  Disquisition.  l  Detached  Thoughts  on  the  Steam- 
engine,'  or,  'The  continued   Possibility  of  Prophecy,'  we  shall 


PROSPECTIVE.  fil 


meet  with  some  quite  private,  not  unimportant  Biographical  fact. 
On  certain  sheets  stand  Dreams,  authentic  or  not,  while  the  cir- 
cumjacent waking  Actions  are  omitted.  Anecdotes,  oftenest 
without  date  of  place  or  time,  fly  loosely  on  separate  slips,  like 
.Sibylline  leaves.  Interspersed  "also  are  long  purely  Autobio- 
graphical delineations  ;  yet  without  connexion,  without  recognisa- 
ble coherence  ;  so  unimportant,  so  superfluously  minute,  they 
almost. remind  us  of  'P.P.  Clerk  of  this  Parish.'  Thus  does 
famine  of  intelligence  alternate  with  waste.  Selection,  order 
appears  to  be  unknown  to  the  Professor.  In  all  Bags  the  same 
imbroglio  ;  only  perhaps  in  the  Bag  Capricorn,  and  those  near 
it,  the  confusion  a  little  worse  confounded.  Close  by  a  rather 
eloquent  Oration,  '  On  receiving  the  Doctor's  Hat,'  lie  wash-bills 
marked  bezahlt  (settled).  His  Travels  are  indicated  by  the 
Street-Advertisements  of  the  various  cities  he  has  visited;  of 
which  Street-Advertisements,  in  most  living  tongues,  here  is  per- 
haps the  completest  collection  extant. 

So  that  if  the  Clothes- Volume  itself  was  too  like  a  Chaos,  we 
have  now  instead  of  the  solar  Luminary  that  should  still  it,  the 
airy  Limbo  which  by  intermixture  will  further  volatilise  and  dis- 
compose it !     As  we  shall  perhaps  see  it  our  duty  ultimately  to 
deposit  these  Six  Paper-Bags  in  the  British  Museum,  farther 
description,  and  all  vituperation  of  them,  may  be  spared.     Biog- 
raphy or  autobiography  of  Teufelsdrockh  there  is,  clearly  enough, 
none  to  be  gleaned  here  :  at  most  some  sketchy,  shadowy  fugitive 
likeness  of  him  may,  by  unheard-of-efforts,  partly  of  intellect, 
partly  of  imagination,  on  the  side  of  Editor  and  of  Header,  rise 
up  between  them.     Only  as  a  gaseous-chaotic  Appendix  to  that  j 
aqueous-chaotic  Volume  can  the  contents  of  the  Six  Bags  hover \ 
round  us,  and  portions  thereof  be  incorporated  with  our  delinea-v 
tion  of  it. 

Daily  and  nightly  does  the  Editor  sit  (with  green  spectacles) 
deciphering  these  unimaginable  Documents  from  their  perplexed 
cursiv-schrift ;  collating  them  with  the  almost  equally  unimagina- 
ble Volume,  which  stands  in  legible  print.  Over  such  a  univer- 
sal medley  of  high  and  low,  of  hot,  cold,  moist  and  dry,  is  he  here 
struggling  (by  union  of  like  with  like,  which  is  Method)  to  build  I 
a  firm  Bridge  for  British  travellers.     Never  perhaps  since  our 


62  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


first  Bridge-builders,  Sin  and  Death,  built  that  stupendous  Arc 
from  Hell-gate  to  the  Earth,  did  any  Pontifex,  or  Pontiff,  unde 
take  such  a  task  as  the  present  Editor.  For  in  this  Arch  to 
leading,  as  we  humbly  presume,  far  otherwards  than  that  gran 
primeval  one,  the  materials  are  to  be  fished  up  from  the  welter 
ing  deep,  and  down  from  the  simmering  air,  here  one  mass,  there 
another,  and  cunningly  cemented,  while  the  elements  boil  be- 
neath ;  nor  is  there  any  supernatural  force  to  do  it  with  ;  but 
simply  the  Diligence  and  feeble  thinking  Faculty  of  an  English 
Editor,  endeavouring  to  evolve  printed  Creation  out  of  a  Ger- 
man printed  and  written  Chaos,  wherein,  as  he  shoots  to  and 
fro  in  it,  gathering,  clutching,  piecing  the  Wiry  to  the  far-distant 
Wherefore,  his  whole  Faculty  and  Self  are  like  to  be  swallowed  up. 
Patiently,  under  these  incessant  toils  and  agitations,  does  the 
Editor,  dismissing  all  anger,  see  his  otherwise  robust  health 
declining;  some  fraction  of  his  allotted  natural  sleep  nightly 
leaving  him,  and  little  but  an  inflamed  nervous-system  to  be 
looked  for.  What  is  the  use  of  health,  or  of  life,  if  not  to  do 
some  work  therewith  ?  And  what  work  nobler  than  transplant- 
ing foreign  Thought  into  the  barren  domestic  soil ;  except  in- 
deed planting  Thought  of  your  own,  which  the  fewest  are  privi- 
leged to  do  1  Wild  as  it  looks,  this  Philosophy  of  Clothes,  can 
we  ever  reach  its  real  meaning,  promises  to  reveal  new-coming 
Eras,  the  first  dim  rudiments  and  already  budding  germs  of  a 
nobler  Era,  in  Universal  History.  Is  not  such  a  prize  worth 
some  striving  ?  Forward  with  us,  courageous  reader ;  be  it 
towards  failure,  or  towards  success !  The  latter  thou  sharest 
with  us,  the  former  also  is  not  all  our  own. 


BOOK    II. 


I 


CHAPTER     I. 

GENESIS. 

In  a  psychological  point  of  view,  it  is  perhaps  questionable 
whether  from  birth  and  genealogy,  how  closely  scrutinised  soever, 
much  insight  is  to  be  gained.  Nevertheless,  as  in  every  phenom- 
enon the  Beginning  remains  always  the  most  notable  moment ; 
so,  with  regard  to  any  great  man,  we  rest  not  till,  for  our  scien- 
tific profit  or  not,  the  whole  circumstances  of  his  first  appearance 
in  this  Planet,  and  what  manner  of  Public  Entry  he  made,  are 
with  utmost  completeness  rendered  manifest.  To  the  Genesis  of 
our  Clothes-Philosopher,  then,  be  this  First  Chapter  consecrated. 
Unhappily,  indeed,  he  seems  to  be  of  quite  obscure  extraction  ; 
uncertain,  we  might  almost  say,  whether  of  any  :  so  that  this  Gen- 
esis of  his  can  properly  be  nothing  but  an  Exodus  (or  transit  out 
of  Invisibility  into  Visibility) :  whereof  the  preliminary  portion 
is  nowhere  forthcoming. 

'  In  the  village  of  Entepfuhl,'  thus  writes  he,  in  the  Bag  Libra, 
on  various  Papers,  which  we  arrange  with  difficulty,  l  dwelt  An- 
'  dreas  Futteral  and  his  wife ;  childless,  in  still  seclusion,  and 
'cheerful  though  now  verging  towards  old  age.  Andreas  had 
1  been  grenadier  Sergeant,  and  even  regimental  Schoolmaster 
'  under  Frederick  the  Great ;  but  now,  quitting  the  halbert  and 
'  ferule  for  the  spade  and  pruniug-hook,  cultivated  a  little  Or- 
'  chard,  on  the  produce  of  which,  he  Cincirmatus-like,  lived  not  with- 
;  out  dignity.  Fruits,  the  peach,  the  apple,  the  grape,  with  other 
'  varieties  came  in  their  season  ;  all  which  Andreas  knew  how 
-  to  sell :  on  evenings  he  smoked  largely,  or  read  (as  beseemed  a 
1  regimental  Schoolmaster),  and  talked  to  neighbours  that  would 
'listen  about  the  Victory  of  Ptossbach ;  and  how  Fritz  the  Only 
''{dcr  Einzige)  had  once  with  his  own  royal  lips  spoken  to  him 
'  had  been  pleased  to  say,  when  Andreas  as  camp-sentinel  de- 


66  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

'  inauded  the  pass-word,  "  Schweig1  Hund  (Peace  hound) !  "before 
'  any  of  his  staff-adjutants  could  answer.  "  Das  nenn1  ich  mir  einen 
'  Kpnig,  There  is  what  I  call  a  King/'  would  Andreas  exclaim: 
c  "  but  the  smoke  of  Kunersdorf  was  still  smarting  his  eyes." 

'  Gretchen,  the  housewife,  won  like  Desdemona  by  the  deeds 
'  rather  than  the  looks  of  her  now  veteran  Othello,  lived  not  in 
'  altogether  military  subordination  ;  for,  as  Andreas  said,  "  the  wo- 
'  mankind  will  not  drill  (icer  kann  die  Wciberchen  dressircn):"  never- 
'  theless  she  at  heart  loved  him  both  for  valour  and  wisdom ;  to  her 
'  a  Prussian  grenadier  Sergeant  and  Regiment's  Schoolmaster  was 
'little  other  than  a  Cicero  and D id  :  what  you  see,  yet  cannot  see 
'  over,  is  as  good  as  infinite.  Nay,  was  not  Andreas  in  very  deed  a 
'  man  of  order,  courage,  downrightness  ( Gcradhcit) ;  that  under- 
"  stood  Biisching's  Geography,  had  been  in  the  victory  of  Rossbach, 
'  and  left  for  deadln  the  camisade  of  Hochkirch  1  The  good  Gretch- 
'  en,  for  all  her  fretting,  watched  over  him  and  hovered  around  him, 
'  as  only  a  true  house-mother  can :  assiduously  she  cooked  and  sewed 
'  and  scoured  for  him ;  so  that  not  only  his  old  regimental  sword  and 
'grenadier-cap,  but  the  whole  habitation  and  environment,  where 
'on  pegs  of  honour  they  hung,  looked  ever  trim  and  gay;  a 
'  roomy  painted  Cottage,  embowered  in  fruit-trees  and  forest-trees. 
'  evergreens  and  honeysuckles ;  rising  many-coloured  from  amid 
'  shaven  grass-plots,  flowers  struggling  in  through  the  very  win- 
'  dows  ;  under  its  long  projecting  eaves  nothing  but  garden-tools 
'in  methodic  piles  (to  screen  them  from  rain),  an  where, 

'  especially  on  summer  nights,  a  King  might  have  wished  to  sit 
'  and  smoke,  and  call  it  his.  Such  a  JBauergut  (Copyhold)  had 
'  Gretchen  given  her  veteran  ;  whose  sinewy  arms,  and  long-dis- 
'used  gardening  talent,  had  made  it  what  you  saw. 

'Into  this  umbrageous  Man's  nest,  one  meek  yellow  evening  or 
'dusk,  when  the  Sun,  hidden  indeed  from  terrestrial  Entepfuhl, 
'  did  nevertheless  journey  visible  and  radiant  along  the  celestial 
*  Balance  (Libra),  it  was  that  a  Stranger  of  reverend  aspect  en- 
'  tered ;  and,  with  grave  salutation,  stood  before  the  two  rather 
'  astonished  housemates.  He  was  close-muffled  in  a  wide  mantle  : 
:  which  without  farther  parley  unfolding,  he  deposited  therefrom 
'what  seemed  some  Basket,  overhung  with  green  Persian  silk; 
'saying  only:  Ihr  lieben  Leute,  hier  bring*  em  unschatzbarei   !•• 


GENESIS.  67 


'  Iciheii ;  nchmi  es  in-  allcr  Acht,  sorgfdltigst  bcniUzt  es  :  mit  kohem 
'  Lohn.  odcr  ivohl  mit  schiccren  Zi?isen,  wircPs  cinst  zuruckgefordert. 
1  u  Good  Christian  people,  here  lies  for  you  an  invaluable  Loan  ; 
|  take  all  heed  thereof,  in  all  carefulness  employ  it :  with  high 
1  recompense,  or  else  with  heavy  penalty,  will  it  one  day  be  re-, 
j  quired  back  "  Uttering  which  singular  words,  in  a  clear,  bell- 
!  like,  forever  memorable  tone,  the  Stranger  gracefully  withdrew  ; 
1  and  before  Andreas  or  his  wife,  gazing  in  expectant  wonder,  had 
•  time  to  fashion  either  question  or  answer,  was  clean  gone. 
'  Neither  out  of  doors  could  aught  of  him  be  seen  or  heard  :  he 
j  had  vanished  in  the  thickets,  in  the  dusk ;  the  Orchard-gate 
j  stood  quietly  closed  :  the  Stranger  was  gone  once  and  always. 


1  So  sudden  had  the  whole  transaction  been,  in  the  autumn  still- 
4  ness  and  twilight,  so  gentle,  noiseless,  that  the  Futterals  could 
'have  fancied  it  all  a  trick  of  Imagination,  or  some  visit  from  an 
'authentic  Spirit.  Only  that  the  green  silk  Basket,  such  as 
I  neither  Imagination  nor  authentic  Spirits  are  wont  to  carry,  still 
j  stood  visible  and  tangible  on  their  little  parlour-table.  Towards 
1  this  the  astonished  couple,  now  with  lit  candle,  hastily  turned 
'  their  attention.  Lifting  the  green  veil,  to  see  what  invaluable  it 
j  hid,  they  descried  there  amid  down  and  rich  white  wrappages, 
*  no  Pitt  Diamond  or  Hapsburg  Eegalia,  but  in  the  softest  sleep, 
'  a  little  red-coloured  Infant !  Beside  it,  lay  a  roll  of  gold  Fried- 
{ richs  the  exact  amount  of  which  was  never  publicly  known  ;  also 
'  a  Taufschein  (baptismal  certificate),  wherein  unfortunately  noth- 
'  ing  but  the  Name  was  decipherable  ;  other  documents  or  indica- 
\  tion  none  whatever. 

'  To  wonder  and  conjecture  was  unavailing,  then  and  always 
|  thenceforth..  Nowhere  in  Entepfuhl,  on  the  morrow  or  next 
j  day,  did  tidings  transpire  of  any  such  figure  as  the  Stranger  ; 
'  nor  could  the  Traveller,  who  had  passed  through  the  neighbour- 
!  ing  Town  in  coach-and-four,  be  connected  with  this  Apparition, 
'  except  in  the  way  of  gratuitous  surmise.  Meanwhile,  for  An- 
'  dreas  and  his  wife,  the  grand  practical  problem  was  :  What  to 
'  do  with  this  little  sleeping  red-coloured  Infant  ?  Amid  amaze- 
'  ments  and  curiosities,  which  had  to  die  away  without  external 
X  satisfying,  they  resolved,  as  in  such  circumstances  charitable 
\  prudent  people  needs  must,  on  nursing  it,  though  with  spoon- 


68  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 

'  meat,  into  whiteness,  and  if  possible  into  manhood.     The  Heav-    \ 
1  ens  smiled  on  their  endeavour  :  thus  has  that  same  mysterious    < 
'  Individual  ever  since  had  a  status  for  himself  in  this  visible  Uni- 
'  verse,  some  modicum  of  victual  and  lodging  and  parade-ground  ; 
'  and  now  expanded  in  bulk,  faculty,  and  knowledge  of  good  and    ! 
'  evil,  he,  as  Here.  Diogenes  Teufelsdrockh,  professes  or  is 
'  ready  to  profess,  perhaps  not  altogether  without  effect,  in  the 
'  new  University  of  Weisgnichtwo,  the  new  Science  of   Things 
1  in  General. 

Our  Philosopher  declares  here,  as  indeed  we  should  think  he 
well  might,  that  these.  -£ac_ts,  first  communicated,  by  the  good 
Gretchen  Futteral,  in  his  twelfth  year,  '  produced  on  the  boyish 
'  heart  and  fancy  a  quite  indelible  impression.  Who  this  rever- 
'  end  Personage,'  he  says,  '  that  glided  into  the  Orchard  Cottage 
'  when  the  Sun  was  in  Libra,  and  then,  as  on  spirit's  wings,  glided 
j  out  again,  might  be?  An  inexpressible  desire,  full  of  love  and 
'  of  sadness,  has  often  since  struggled  within  me  to  shape  an  an- 
'  swer.  Ever,  in  my  distresses  and  my  loneliness,  lias  Fantasy"" 
<  turned,  full  of  longing  (sehnsuchtsvoll^)  to  that  unknown  Father, 
'  who  perhaps  far  from  me,  perhaps  near,  either  way  invisible, 
'  might  have  taken  me  to  his  paternal  bosom,  there  to  lie  screened 
'  from  many  a  woe.  Thou  beloved  Father,  dost  thou  still,  shut 
'  out  from  me  only  by  thin  penetrable  curtains  of  earthly  Space,  \ 
'  wend  to  and  fro  among  the  crowd  of  the  living  ?  Or  art  thou 
'  hidden  by  those  far  thicker  curtains  of  the  Everlasting  Night, 
1  or  rather  of  the  Everlasting  Day,  through  which  my  mortal  eye 
I  and  outstretched  arms  need  not  strive  to  reach  ?  Alas  !  I  know 
'  not,  and  in  vain  vex  myself  to  know.  More  than  once,  heart- 
1  deluded,  have  I  taken  for  thee  this  and  the  other  noble-looking 
1  Stranger  ;  and  approached  him  wistfully,  with  infinite  regard  ; 
1  but  he  too  had  to  repel  me,  he  too  was  not  thou. 

'  And  yet,  0  Man  born  of  Woman,'  cries  the  Autobiographer,  I 
with  one  of  his  sudden  whirls,  '  wherein  is  my  case  peculiar  ? 
'  lladst  thou,  any  more  than  I,  a  Father  whom  thou  knowest  ? 
1  The  Andreas  and  Gretchen,  or  the  Adam  and  Eve,  who  led  thee 
'  into  Life,  and  for  a  time  suckled  and  pap-fed  thee  there,  whom 
'  thou'naniest  Father  and  Mother  ;  these  were,  like  mine,  but  thy 
'  nursing-father   and   nursing-mother :    thy  true   Beginning  ami 


GENESIS.  69 


'  Father  is  in  Heaven,  whom  with  the  bodily  eye  thou  shalt  never 
;  behold,  but  only  with  the  spiritual.' 

■  The  little  green   veil,'  adds  lie.  among  much  similar  moral- 
ising, and  embroiled  discoursing,  '  I  yet  keep  ;   still  more  insepa- 
1  rably  the  Name,  Diogenes  Teufelsdrockh.     From  the  veil  can 
'  nothing  be  inferred  :  a  piece  of  now  quite  faded  Persian  silk, 
|  like  thousands  of  others.     On  the  name  I  have  many  times 
1  meditated  and  conjectured  ;  but  neither  in  this  lay  there  any 
( clue.     That  it  was  my  unknown  Father's  name  I  must  hesitate 
'  to  believe.     To  no  purpose  have  I  searched  through  all  the 
!  Herald's   Books,   in   and   without   the   German    Empire,    and 
through  all  manner  of  Subscriber-Lists  (Prdnwmeranten),  Mili- 
tia-Rolls, and  other  Name-catalogues  ;  extraordinary  names  as 
we  have  in  Germany,  the  name  Teufelsdrockh,  except  as  ap- 
pended to  my  own  person,  nowhere  occurs.     Again  what  may 
the  unchristian  rather  than  Christian  "  Diogenes"  mean?     Did 
that  reverend  Basket-bearer  intend  by  such  designation,  to  sha- 
dow forth  my  future  destiny,  or  his  own  present  malign  hu- 
mour ?     Perhaps  the   latter,  perhaps   both.     Thou  ill-starred' 
Parent,  who  like  an  Ostrich  hadst  to  leave  thy  ill-starred  off- 
spring to  be  hatched  into  self-support  by  the  mere  sky -influences 
of  Chance,  can  thy  pilgrimage  have  been  a  smooth  one  1     Beset 
I  by  Misfortune  thou  doubtless  hast  been  ;  or  indeed  by  the  worst 
figure  of  Misfortune,  by  Misconduct.    Often  have  I  fancied  how, 
in  thy  hard  life-battle,  thou  wert  shot  at  and  slung  at,  wounded, 
1  hand-fettered,  hamstrung,  browbeaten  and  bedevilled,  by  the 
Time-Spirit  (Zeitgeist)  in  thyself  and  others,  till  the  good  soul 
first  given  thee  was  seared  into  grim  rage ;  and  thou  hadst  no- 
1  thing  for  it  but  to  leave  in  me  an  indignant  appeal  to  the  Fu- 
ture, and  living  speaking  Protest  against  the  Devil,  as  that  same 
Spirit  not  of  the  Time  only,  but  of  Time  itself,  is  well  named  ! 
Which  Appeal  and  Protest,  may  I  now  modestly  add,  was  not 
perhaps  quite  lost  in  air. 

'  For  indeed  as  Walter  Shandy  often  insisted,  there  J^Biud^ 
nay  almost  all,  in  Names.  The  Name  is  tke£arlie*tUja4unjj^ 
you  wrap  round  the  Earth-visiting  Me  :  to  which  it  thenceforth 
cleaves,  more  tenaciously  (for  there  are  Names  that  have  lasted 
nigh  thirty  centuries)  than  the  very  skin.     And  now  from  with- 


\ 


70  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 


1  out,  what  mystic  influences  does  it  not  send  inwards,  even  to 
'  the  centre  ;  especially  in  those  plastic  lirst-times,  when  the 
'  whole  soul  is  yet  infantine,  soft,  and  the  invisible  seed-grain  will 
'•grow  to  be  an  all-overshadowing  tree  !  Names?  Could  I  un- 
'  fold  the  influence  of  Names,  which  are  the  most  important  of 
1  all  clothings,  I  were  a  second  greater  TTrijmegistus.  Not  only 
•  all  common  Speech,  but  Science,  Poetry  itself  is  no  other,  if 
'  thou  consider  it,  than  a  right  Naming.  Adam's  first  task  was 
'  giving  names  to  natural  Appearances  :  what  is  ours  still  but  a 
'continuation  of  the  same  ;  be  the  appearances  exotic-vegetaUe,,, 
'  organic,  mechanic,  stars,  or  starry  movements  (as  in  Science) ; . 
'  or  (as  in  Poetry)  passions,  virtues,  calamities,  God-attributes, 
'  Gods  ? — In  a  very  plain  sense  the  Proverb  says,  Call  one  a  thief ^ 
'  and  he  will  steal ;  in  an  almost  similar  sense,  may  we  not  per- 
'  haps  say,  Call  one  Diogenes  Teufehdrockh,  and  he  will  open  the 
'  Philosophy  of  Clothes.1  ^^ 

■  Meanwhile  the  incipient  Diogenes,  like  others,  all  ignorant  of 
'  Iiis  "Why,  his  How  or  Whereabout,  was  opening  his  eyes  to  the 
'  kind  Light ;  sprawling  out  his  ten  fingers  and  toes  ;  listening} 
'  tasting,  feeling  ;  in  a  word,  by  all  his  Five  Senses,  still  more  by 
'  his  sixth  Sense  of  Hunger,  and  a  whole  infinitude  of  inward] 
'  spiritual,  half-awakened  Senses,  endeavouring  daily  to  acquire- 
'  for  himself  some  knowledge  of  this  strange  Universe  where  he 
{  had  arrived,  be  his  task  therein  what  it  might.  Infinite  was  his"' 
'  his  progress  ;  thus  in  some  fifteen  months,  he  could  perform  the 
*'  the  miracle  of — Speech  !  To  breed  a  fresh  Soul,  is  jt  not  like 
'  brooding  a  fresh  (celestial)  Egg ;  wherein  as  yet  all  is  formless  : 
'powerless;  yet  by  degrees  organic  elements  and  fibres  shooj 
'  through  the  watery  albumen  :  and  out  of  vague  Sensation] 
grows  Thought,  grows  Fantasy  and  Force,  and  we  have  Fhilosol 


t 

1  phies,  Dynasties,  nay  Poetries  and  Religions  I 

'Young  Diogenes,  or  rather  young  Gneschen,  for  by  such 
'  diminutive  had  they  in  their  fondness  named  him,  travelled  fori 
1  ward  to  those  high  consummations,  by  quick  yet  easy  stages. 
k  The  Futterals,  to  avoid  vain  talk,  and  moreover  keep  the  roll  of- 
'gold  Friedriehs  safe,  gave  out  that  he  was  a  grand-nephew  :  the 
c  orphan  of  some  sister's  daughter,  suddenly  deceased,  in  An- 
1  dreas's  distant  Prussian  birth-land  ;  of  whom,  as  of  her  indi- 


/* 


GENESIS. 


|  gent  sorrowing  widower,  little  enough  was  known  at  Entep- 
1  fuhl.  Heedless  of  all  which,  the  Nurseling  took  to  his  spoon- 
f  meat,  and  throve.  I  have  heard  him  noted  as  a  still  infant,  that 
■  kept  his  mind  much  to  himself ;  above  all,  that  seldom  or  never 
'  cried.  He  already  felt  that  time  was  precious  ;  that  he  had 
1  other  work  cut  out  for  him  than  whimpering.' 


Such,  after  utmost  painful  search  and  collation  among  these 
miscellaneous  Paper-masses,  is  all  the  notice  we  can  gather  of 
Herr  Teufelsdrockk's  genealogy.  More  imperfect,  more  enig- 
matic it  can  seem  to  few  readers  than  to  us.  The  Professor,  in 
whom  truly  we  more  and  more  discern  a  certain  satirical  turn, 
and  deep  under-currents  of  roguish  whim,  for  the  present  stands 
pledged  in  honour,  so  we  will  not  doubt  him  :  but  seems  it  not 
conceivable  that,  by  the  I  good  Gretchen  Futteral,'  or  some  other 
perhaps  interested  party,  he  has  himself  been  deceived  ?  Should 
these  sheets,  translated  or  not,  ever  reach  the  Entepfuhl  Circu- 
lating-Library, some  cultivated  native  of  that  district  might  feel 
called  to  afford  explanation.  Nay,  since  Books,  like  invisible 
scouts,  permeate  the  whole  habitable  globe,  and  Tombuctoo  itself 
is  not  safe  from  Britith  Literature,  may  not  some  Copy  find  out 
even  the  mysterious  Basket-bearing  stranger,  who  in  a  state  of 
extreme  senility  perhaps  still  exists  ;  and  gently  force  even  him 
to  disclose  himself ;  to  claim  openly  a  son,  in  whom  any  father 
may  feel  pride  % 


AR\ 


University  of  California. 


72  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


CHAPTER    II. 


IDYLLIC. 

c  Happy  season  of  Childhood  !'  exclaims  Teufelsdrockh  :  '  Kind 
(  Nature,  that  art  to  all  a  bountiful  mother  ;  that  Yisitest  the  poor 

*  man's  hut  with  auroral  radiance^  and  for  thy  Nurseling  hast 
1  provided  a  soft  swathing  of  Love' and  infinite  Hope,  wherein  he 
1  waxes  and  slumbers,  danced-round  (umgdukdt)  by  sweetest 
c  Dreams  !  If  the  paternal  Cottage  still  shuts  us  in,  its  roof  still 
'  screens  us  :  with  a  Father  we  have  as  yet  a  prophet,  priest  and 
i  king,  and  an  Obedience  that  makes  us  Free.  The  young  spirit 
i  has  awakened  out  of  Eternity,  and  knows  not  what  we  mean  by 
<  Time  ;  as  yet  Time  is  no  fast-hurrying  stream,  but  a  sportful 
'  sunlit  ocean;  years  to  the  child  are  as  ages:  ah!  the  secret  of 
i  Vicissitude,  of  that  slower  or  quicker  decay  and  ceaseless  down- 
1  rushing  of  the  universal  World-fabric,  from  the  granite  moun- 
1  tain  to  the  man  or  day-moth,  is  yet  unknown  ;  and  in  a  motion- 
Less  Universe,  we  taste,  what  afterwards  in  this  quick-whirling 

'  Universe  is  forever  denied  us,  the  balm  of  Rest.  Sleep  on,  thou 
c  fair  Child,  for  thy  long  rough  journey  is  at  hand !     A  little 

•  while,  and  thou  too  shalt    sleep  no  more,  but  thy  very  dreams 

•  shall  In'  mimic  battles  :  thou  too,  with  old  Arnauld,  wilt  have  to 
'say  in  stern  patience:  "  Host 1  llest  ?  Shall  I  not  have  all 
-  Eternity  to  rest  in  ?"  Celestial  Nepenthe!  though  a  Pyrrhus 
'  conquer  empires,  and  an  Alexander  sack  the  world,  he  finds 
'  thee  not ;  and  thou  hast  once  falleu  gently,  of  thy  own  accord, 
'  on  the  eyelids,  on  the  heart  of  every  mother's  child.  For  as  yet, 
'sleep  and  waking  are  one  :  the  fair  Life-garden  rustles  infinite 
1  around,  and  everywhere  is  dewy  fragrance,  and  the  budding  of 

*  Hope;  which  budding,  if  in  youth,  too  frostnipt,  it  grows  to 
j  flowers,  will  in  manhood  yield  no  fruit,  but  a  prickly,  bitter- 
c  rinded  stone-fruit,  of  which  the  fewest  can  find  the  kernel.' 


IDYLLIC.  73 


In  such  rose-coloured  light  does  our  Professor,  as  Poets  are 
wont;  look  back  on  his  childhood  ;  the  historical  details  of  which 
(to  say  nothing  of  much  other  vague  oratorical  matter)  he  ac- 
cordingly dwells  on,  with  an  almost  wearisome  minuteness.  W« 
hear  of  Entepfuhl  standing  '  in  trustful  derangement'  among  the 
woody  slopes :  the  paternal  Orchard  flanking  it  as  extreme  out- 
post from  below  ;  the  little  Kuhbach  gushing  kindly  by,  among 
beech-rows,  through  river  after  river,  into  the  Donau,  into  the 
Black  Sea,  into  the  Atmosphere  and  Universe  ;  and  how  :  the 
brave  old  Linden,'  stretching  like  a  parasol  of  twenty  ells  in  ra- 
dius, overtopping  all  other  rows  and  clumps,  towered  up  from  the 
central  Agora  and  Campus  Martins  of  the  Village,  l^ke  its  Sacred 
Tree  ;  and  how  the  old  man  sat  talking  under  its  shadow  (Gne- 
schen  often  greedily  listening),  and  the  wearied  labourers  reclined, 
and  the  unwearied  children  spotted,  and  the  young  men  and 
maidens  often  danced  to  flute-n^usie.  '  Glorious  summer  twi- 
I  lights,'  cries  Teufelsdrockh,  l  when  the  Sun  like  a  proud  Con- 
I  queror  and  Imperial  Taskmaster  'turned  his  back,  with  his  gold- 
I  purple  emblazonry,  and  all  his  fire-clad  bodyguard  (of  Prismatic 
'Colours);  and  the  tired  brickmakers  of  this  clay -Earth  might 
\  steal  a  little  frolic,  and  those  few  meek  Stars  would  not  tell  of 
'  them !' 

Then  we  have  long  details  of  the  Weinlescn  (Vintage),  the  Har- 
vest-Home, Christmas,  and  so  forth  ;  with  a  whole  cycle  of  the 
Entepfuhl  Children's-games,  differing  apparently  by  mere  super- 
ficial shades  from  those  of  other  countries.  Concerning  all  which, 
we  shall  here,  for  obvious  reasons,  say  nothing.  What  cares  the 
world  for  our  as  yet  miniature  Philosopher's  achievements  under 
that  '  bravo  old  Linden  V  Or  even  where  is  the  use  of  such 
practical  reflections  as  the  following  %  \  In  all  the  sports  of  Chil- 
*  dren,  were  it  only  in  their  wanton  breakages  and  defacements. 
'  you  shall  discern  a  creative  instinet  [schaffecleu  Trieb)  :  the  Man 
'  kin  feels  that  he  is  a  born  3Ian.  that  his  vocation  is  to  Work. 
'  The  choicest  present  you  can  ma£e  Tnn~Ts'~a^o^i^5e"^'tJI'"fniiTe 
•'  or  pen-gun,  for  construction  or  for  destruction  ;  either  way.iiLJg 
'  for  Work,  for  Change.  In  gregarious  sports  of  skill  or  strength, 
1  fche  Boy  trains  himself  to  Co-operation,  for  war  or  peace,  as  gov- 


SARTOR    RESARTUS 


1  ernor  or  governed  :  the  little  Maid  again,  provident  of  her  do- 


niestic  destiny,  takes  with  preference  to  Dolls.' 

Perhaps,  however,  we  may  give  this  anecdote,  considering  who 
it  is  that  relates  it :  '  My  first  short-clothes  were  of  yellow  serge  ; 
'  or  rather,  I  should  say,  my  first  short  cloth,  for  the  vesture  was 
'  one  and  indivisible,  reaching  from  neck  to  ankle,  a  mere  body 
'  with  four  limbs :  of  which  fashion  how  little  could  I  then  divine 
'  the  architectural,  how  much  less  the  moral  significance  !' 

More  graceful  is  the  following  little  picture  :  '  On  fine  cven- 
'  ings  I  was  wont  to  carry  forth  my  supper  (bread-crumb  boiled 
1  in  milk),  and  eat  it  out  of  doors.  On  the  coping  of  the  Or- 
'  chard  wall,  which  I  could  reach  by  climbing,  or  still  more  easily 
'  if  Father  Andreas  would  set  up  the  pruning  ladder,  my  porrin- 
'  ger  was  placed :  there,  many  a  sunset,  have  I,  looking  at  the 
'  distant  western  Mountains,  consumed,  not  without  relish,  my 
'  evening  meal.  Those  hues  of  gold  and  azure,  that  hush  of 
'  "World's  expectation  as  Day  died,  were  still  a  Hebrew  SpeecM 
;  '  for  me  ;  nevertheless  I  was  looking  at  the  fair  illuminated  Let- 
'  terSj  and  had  an  eye  for  their  gilding.' 

"With  '•the  little  one's  friendship  for  cattle  and  poultry.'  we 
shall  not  much  intermeddle.  It  may  be  that  hereby  he  acquired 
a  ■  certain  deeper  sympathy  with  animated  Nature  ;'  but  when, 
we  would  ask,  saw  any  man,  in  a  collection  of  Biographical  Docu- 

3,  such  a  piece  as  this :  '  Impressive  enough  (be 
'was  it  to  hear,  in  early  morning,  the  Swineherd's  horn:  and 
'  know  that  so  many  hungry  happy  quadrupeds  v  11  sides, 

'starting  in  hot  haste  to  join  him,  for  breakfast  on  the  Heath. 
'  Or  to  sec  them,  at  eventide,  all  marching  in  again,  with  short 
:ik.  almost  in  military  order;  and  eaeh.  topographically  COW 
'  rect,  trotting  off  in  succession  to  the  right  or  left,  through  its 
'own  lane,  to  its  own  dwelling:  till  old   Kunz.  at  the  Village 

bead,  now  left  alone,  blew  his  last   blast,  and  retired  for  the 

'night.     We  are  wont  to  love  the   Bog  chiefly  in  the  form  of 

'  !Iam  :   yet  did  not  these  bristly  thick-skinned  beings  here  mani- 

perhaps  humour  of  character ;  at  any  rate,  a 

i  fnl  Bubmi  -who  wei 

rd2  in,  darn*  line,  and  leal!,' 


IDYLLIC. 


k  sembling  slate  or  discoloured  tin  breeches,  is  still  the  Hierarch 
'  of  this  lower  world  V 

It  is  maintained,  by  Hclvetius  and  his  set,  that  an  infant  of 
geajius  is  quite  the  same  as  any  other  infant,  only  that  certain 
surprisingly  favourable  influences  accompany  him  through  life, 
especially  through  childhood,  and  expand  him,  while  others  lie 
close-folded  and  continue  dunces.  Herein,  say  they,  consists  the 
whole  difference  between  an  inspired  Prophet  and  a  double-bar- 
relled Game-preserver  :  the  inner  man  of  the  one  has  been  fos- 
tered into  generous  development :  that  of  the  other,  crushed 
down  perhaps  by  vigour  of  animal  digestion,  and  the  like,  has  ex- 
uded and  evaporated,  or  at  best  sleeps  now  irresuscitably  stag- 
nant at  the  bottom  of  his  stomach.  '  With  which  opinion,'  cries 
Teufelsdrockk,  '  I  should  as  soon  agree  as  with  this  other,  that  an 

■  acorn  might,  by  favourable  or  unfavourable  influences  of  soil  and 

■  climate,  be  nursed  into  a  cabbage,  or  the  cabbage-seed  into  an 

•  oak. 

'  Nevertheless,'  continues  he,  '  I  too  acknowledge  the  ail-but 
omnipotence  of  early  culture  and  nurture  :  hereby  we  have  either 
a  doddered  dwarf  bush,  or  a  high-towering,  wide-shadowing  tree  ; 
either  a  sick  yellow  cabbage,  or  an  edible,  luxuriant  green  one. 
Of  a  truth,  it  is  the  duty  of  all  men,  especially  of  all  philoso- 
phers,  to  note  down  with  accuracy  the  characteristic  circum- 
stances of  their  Education,  what  furthered,  what  hindered,  what 
in  any  way  modified  it :  to  which  duty,  now-adays  so  pressing  for 
'many  a  German  Autobiographer,  I  also  zealously  address  myself.' 
— Thou  rogue  !    Is  it  by  short  clothes  of  yellow  serge,  and  swine- 
herd horns,  that  an  infant  of  genius  is  educated'?     And  yet,  as 
usual,  it  ever  remains  doubtful  whether  he  is  laughing  in  his 
sleeve  at  these  Autobiographical  times  of  ours,  or  writing  from 
the  abundance  of  his  own  fond  ineptitude.     For  he  continues : 

■  If  among  the  ever^streaming  currents  of  Sighs,  Hearings,  Feel- 

•  ings  for  Pain  or  Pleasure,  whereby,  as  in  a  Magic  Hall,  young 

■  Gneschen  went  about  environed,  I  might  venture  to  select  and 

•  specify,  perhaps  these  following  were  also  of  the  number  : 

'  Doubtless,  as  childish  sports  call  forth  Intellect,  Activity,  so  the 

'  young  creature's  Imagination  was  stirred  up,  and  a  Historical 

tendency  given  him  by  the  narrative  habits  of  Father  Andreas : 


76  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

1  who,  with  his  battle-reminiscences,  and  grey  austere  yet  hearty- 
'patriarchal  aspect,  could  not  but  appear  another  Ulysses  and 
'  "  Mueh-enduring  Man."  Eagerly  I  hung  upon  his  tales,  when 
'  listening  neighbours  enlivened  the  hearth  :  from  these  perils 
'  and  these  travels,  wild  and  far  almost  as  Hades  itself,  a  dim 
'  world  of  Adventure  expanded  itself  within  me.  Incalculable 
'  also  was  the  knowledge  I  acquired  in  standing  by  the  Old  Men 
'  under  the  Linden-tree  :  the  whole  of  Immensity  was  yet  new  to 
'  me  ;  and  had  not  these  reverend  seniors,  talkative  enough,  been  ( 
'  employed  in  partial  surveys  thereof  for  nigh  fourscore  years? 
'  With  amazement  I  began  to  discover  that  Entepfuhl  stood  in 
'  the  middle  of  a  Country,  of  a  World  :  that  there  was  such  a 
'  thing  as  Hktory,  as  Biography  ;  to  which  I  also,  one  day,  by 
1  hand  and  tongue,  might  contribute. 

'  In  a  like  sense  worked  the  Postwagcn  (Stage-Coach),  which, 
j' slow-rolling  under   its  mountains  of  men  and  luggage,  wended  1 
I'  through  our  Village:  northwards,  truly  in  the  dead  of  night; 
1  yet  southwards  visibly  at  eventide.     Not  till  my  eighth  year,  did 
'  I  reflect  that  this  Postwagon  could  be  other  than  some  terrestrial 
(  Moon,  rising  and  setting  by  mere  Law  of  Nature,  like  the  hea-jj 
f  venly  one  ;  that  it  came  on  made  highways,  from  far  cities  to-  . 
'wards  far  cities ;  weaving  them  like  a  monstrous  shuttle  into-< 
'  closer  and  closer  union.     It  was  then  that,  independently  of  i 
'  Schiller's    WUhdm   Tell,    I    made  this   not   quite  insignificant  f 
1  reflection   (so  true   also   in    spiritual   things) :    Any   rood,  this 
1  simple  Entepfuhl  road,  will  lead  you  to  the  end  of  the  Worlds 

'  Why  mention  our  Swallows,  which,  out  of  fair  Africa  as  I 
'learned,  threading  their  way  over  seas  and  mountains,  corporate 
'  cities  and  belligerent  nations,  yearly  found  themselves,  with  the 
'month  of  May,  snug-lodged  in  our  Cottage  Lobby?  The  hos- 1 
•  pitable  Father  (for  cleanliness'  sake)  had  fixed  a  little  bracket,^ 
k  plumb  under  their  nest:  there  they  built,  and  caught  flies,  and 
•twittered,  and  bred;  and  all,  I  chiefly,  from  the  heart  loved 
'them.  Bright,  nimble  creatures,  who  taught  you  the  mason- 
'  craft ;  nay,  stranger  still,  gave  you  a  masonic  incorporation,  al- 
'  most  social  policy?  For  if,  by  ill  chance,  and  when  time 
'  pressed,  your  House  fell,  have  I  not  Been  live  neighbourly  Kelp 
'  ers  appear  next  lav:  and  swashing  to  and  fro.  with  animated 


IDYLLIC.  77 


'  loud,  long-drawn  chirpings,  and  activity  almost  super-hirundine, 
'  complete  it  again  before  nightfall  ? 

'  But  undoubtedly  the  grand  summary  of  Entepfuhl  child's- 
'  culture,  where  as  in  a  funnel  its  manifold  influences  were  con- 
'  centrated  and  simultaneously  poured  down  on  us,  was  the  annual 

•  Cattle-fair.  Here,  assembling  from  all  the  four  winds,  came 
'  the  elements  of  an  unspeakable  hurly-burly.  Nutbrown  maids 
'  and  nutbrown  men,  all  clear-washed,  loud-laughing,  bedizened 
'  and  beribanded ;  who  came  for  dancing,  for  treating,  and  if  pos- 
'  sible   for   happiness.      Topbooted    Graziers    from   the    North ; 

•  Swiss  Brokers,  Italian  Drovers,  also  topbooted,  from  the  South : 
'  these  with  their  subalterns  in  leather  jerkins,  leather  skull-caps, 
'  and  long  ox-goads ;  shouting  in  half -articulate  speech,  amid  the 
'  inarticulate  barking  and  bellowing.  Apart  stood  Potters  from 
\  far  Saxony,  with  their  crockery  in  fair  rows ;  Niirnberg  Ped- 
'  lars,  in  booths  that  to  me  seemed  richer  than  Ormuz  bazaars ; 
'  Showmen  from  the  Lago  Maggiore  ;  detachments  of  the  Wiener 
'  Schub  (Offscourings  of  Vienna)  vociferously  superintending 
'games  of  chance.  Ballad-singers  brayed,  Auctioneers  grew 
'  hoarse ;  cheap  New  Wine  (heuriger)  flowed  like  water,  still 
'  worse  confounding  the  confusion  ;  and  high  over  all,  vaulted,  in 
'  ground-and-lofty  tumbling,  a  particoloured  Merry  Andrew,  like 


1  the  genius  of  the  place  and  of  Life  itself. 

'Thus  encircled  by  the  mystery  of  Existence;  under  the  deep 
'  heavenly  FirmamentTwaited  on  by  the  four  golden  Seasons, 
'  with  their  vicissitudes  of  contribution,  for  even  grim  Winter 
'brought  its  skating-matches  and  shooting-matches,  its  snow- 
'  storms  and  Christmas  carols, — did  the  Child  sit  and  learn. 
'  These  things  were  the  Alphabet,  whereby  in  after-time  he  was 
'to  syllable  and  partly  read  the  grand  Volume  of  the  World: 
'  what  matters  it  whether  such  Alphabet  be  in  large  gilt  letters 
'  or  in  small  ungilt  ones,  so  you  have  an  eye  to  read  it  ?  For 
'  Gneschen,  eager  to  learn,  the  very  act  of  looking  thereon  was  a 
'  blessedness  that  gilded  all :  his  existence  was  a  bright,  soft  ele- 
'nient  of  Joy;  out  of  which,  as  in  Prospero's  Island,  wonder 
'  after  wonder  bodied  itself  forth,  to  teach  by  charming. 

'  Nevertheless,  I  were  but  a  vain  dreamer  to  say,  that  even 


... 


78  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

'  then  my  felicity  was  perfect.  I  had.  once  for  all.  come  down 
'  from  Heaven  into  the  Earth.  Among  the  rainbow  colours  that 
'glowed  on  my  horizon,  lay  even  in  childhood  a  dark  ring  of' 
'  Care,  as  yet  no  thicker  than  a  thread,  and  often  quite  overshone; 
'  yet  always  it  reappeared,  nay  ever  waxing  broader  and  broader; 
1  till  in  after-years  it  almost  overshadowed  my  whole  canopy,  and. 
'  threatened  to  engulf  me  in  final  night.  It  was  the  ring  of  Ne-: 
1  cessity,  whereby  we  are  all  begirt ;  happy  he  for  whom  a  kind 
c  heavenly  Sun  brightens  it  into  a  ring  of  Duty,  and  plays  round 
1  it  with  beautiful  prismatic  diffractions  ;  yet  ever,  as  basis  and  as 
'  bourne  for  our  whole  being,  it  is  there. 

'  For  the  first  few  years  of  our  terrestrial  Apprenticeship,  we 
'  have  not  much  work  to  do ;  but,  boarded  and  lodged  gratis,  are 
'  set  down  mostly  to  look  about  us  over  the  workshop,  and  see 
'  others  work,  till  we  have  understood  the  tools  a  little,  and  can 
c  handle  this  and  that.  If  good  Passivity  alone,  and  not  good' 
'  Passjyjjty__and  good  Activity  together,  were  tbe"tliin::  wanted, 
r  then  was  my  early  position  favourable  beyond  the  most.  In  all 
'  that  respects  openness  of  Sense,  affectionate  Temper,  ingenuous 
'  Curiosity,  and  the  fostering  of  these,  what  more  could  I  have- 
'  wished  %  On  the  other  side,  however,  things  went  not  so  well. 
'  My  Active  Power  (Thatkrafi)  was  unfavourably  hemmed  in  ;  of 
'  which  misfortune  how  many  traces  yet  abide  with  me  !  In  an 
'  orderly  house,  where  the  litter  of  children's  sports  is  hateful 
'  enough,  your  training  is  too  stoical  :  rather  to  beat  and  forbear 
1  than  to  make  and  do.      I  was  forbid  much:  wishes  in  any  niea- 

*  sure  bold  I  had  to  renounce  ;  everywhere  a  strait  bond  o\:  ( >l>e- 
c  dience  inflexibly  held  me  down.  Thus  already  Freewill  often 
-  came  in  painful  collision  with  Necessity:  so  that  my  tears  ih.wed, 
'and  at  seasons  the  Child  Itself  mighi  taste  that  root  of  bitten 

•  ness,  wherewith  the  whole  fruitage  of  our  life  is  mingled  and 
'  tempered. 

'In  which  habituation  to  Obedience,  truly,  it  was  beyond  mea- 
'  sure  safer  to  err  by  excess  than  by  defect.  Obedience  is  our 
'universal  duty  and  destiny ;  wherein  whoso  will  not  bend  must 
'break;  too  early  and  too  thoroughly  we  cannot  be  trained  to 
1  know  that  Would,  in  this  world  of  ours,  is  as  mere  zero  to 
'Should,  and  for  most  part  as  the  smallest  of  fractions  even  to 


IDYLLIC.  79 


i 


f  Shall  Hereby  was  laid  for  me  the  basis  of  worldly  Discretion, 
'nay,  of  Morality  itself.  Let  me  not  quarrel  with  my  upbring- 
'  »g !  It  was  rigorous,  too  frugal,  compressively  secluded,  every 
ay  unscientific :  yet  in  that  very  strictness  and  domestic  soli- 
tude might  there  not  lie  the  root  of  deeper  earnestness,  of  the 
1  stem  from  which  all  noble  fruit  must  grow  T\  Above  all,  how  un- 
'  skilful  soever,  it  was  loving,  it  was  well-meant,  honest  ;  whereby 
'  every  deficiency  was  helped.  My  kind  Mother,  for  as  such  I 
'  must  ever  love  the  good  Gretchen,  did  me  one  altogether  invalu- 
'  able  service  :  she  taught  me,  less  indeed  by  word  than  by  act  and 
1  daily  reverent  look  and  habitude,  her  own  simple  version  of  the 
1  Christian  Faith.  Andreas  too  attended  Church  ;  yet  more  like 
*  a  parade  duty,  for  which  he  in  the  other  world  expected  pay  with 
'  arrears, — as,  I  trust,  he  has  received ;  but  my  Mother,  with  a 
'  true  woman's  heart,  and  fine  though  uncultivated  sense,  was  in 
'  the  strictest  acceptation  Religious.  ^How  indestructibly  the 
'  Good  grows,  and  propagates  itself,  even  among  the  weedy  entan- 
1  glements  of  Evil !  The  highest  whom  I  knew  on  Earth  I  here 
:  saw  bowed  down,  with  awe  unspeakable,  before  a  Higher  in  Hea- 
'  ven  :  such  things,  especially  in  infancy,  reach  inwards  to  the  very 
'  core  of  your  being ;  mysteriously  does  a  Holy  of  Holies  build 
'  itself  into  visibility  in  the  mysterious  deeps  ;  and  Reverence,  the 
f  divinest  in  man,  springs  forth  undying  from  its  mean  envelop- 
.'  ment  of  Fear.  Wouldst  thou  rather  be  a  peasant's  son  that 
I  ;  knew,  were  it  never  so  rudely,  there  was  a  God  in  Heaven  and 
'  in  Man  ;  or  a  duke's  son  that  only  knew  there  were  two  and 
thirty  quarters  on  the  family-coach'?' 
!  To  which  last  question  we  must  answer:  Beware,  0  Teufels- 
rockh,  of  spiritual  pride  ! 


80  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


CHAPTER    III 


V 


PEDAGOGY. 


Hitherto  we  see  young  Gneschen,  in  his  indivisible  case  of 
yellow  serge,  borne  forward  mostly  on  the  arms  of  kind  Nature 
alone  ;  seated,  indeed,  and  much  to  his  mind,  in  the  terrestrial 
workshop ;  but  (except  his  soft  hazel  eyes,  which  we  doubt  not 
already  gleamed  with  a  still  intelligence)  called  upon  for  little 
voluntary  movement  there.  Hitherto  accordingly  his  aspect  is 
rather  generic,  that  of  an  incipient  Philosopher  and  Poet  in  the 
abstract:  perhaps  it  would  puzzle  Herr  Heuschrecke  himself  to  say 
wherein  the  special  Doctrine  of  Clothes  is  as  yet  foreshadowed  or 
betokened.  For  with  Gneschcn,  as  with  others,  the  Man  may 
indeed  stand  pictured  in  the  Boy  (at  least  all  the  pigments  are 
there) ;  yet  only  some  half  of  the  Man  stands  in  the  Child,  qj 
young  Boy,  namely,  his  Passive  endowment,  not  his  Active.  The 
more  impatient  are  we  to  discover  what  figure  he  cuts  in  this  latter 
capacity;  how  when,  to  use  his  own  words,  'he  understands  the 
tools  a  little,  and  can  handle  this  or  that,'  he  will  proceed  to  han- 
dle it. 

Here,  however,  may  be  the  place  to  state  that,  in  much  of  our, 
Philosopher's  history,  there  is  something  of  an  almost  Hindoo 
character  :  nay,  perhaps  in  that  so  well  fostered  and  every-wav 
excellent  'Passivity'  of  his,  which,  with  no  free  development  of 
the  antagonist  Activity,  distinguished  his  childhood, we  may  detect 
the  rudiments  of  much  that,  in  after-days,  and  still  in  these  pre- 
sent days,  astonishes  the  world.  For  the  shallow-sighted  Teufels- 
drdekh  is  oftenest  a  man  without  Activity  of  any  kind,  a  No-man  ; 
for  the  deep-sighted,  again,  a  man  with  Activity  almost  supera* 
bundant,  yei  so  spiritual,  close-hidden,  enigmatic,  that  no  mortal 
can  foresee  its  explosions,  or  even  when  it  has  exploded,  so  much 
as  ascertain  its  significance.    A  dangerous,  difficult  temper  for  the 


PEDAGOGY.  81 

modern  European ;  above  all,  disadvantageous  in  the  /nero  jof  a 
Biography !  Now  as  heretofore  it  will  behove  the  Editiwio^these 
pages,  were  it  never  so  unsuccessfully,  to  do  his  endeavour. 

Among  the  earliest  tools  of  any  complicacy  which  a  man,  espe- 
cially a  man  of  letters,  gets  to  handle,  are  his  Class-books.  On 
this  portion  of  his  History,  Teufelsdrockh  looks  down  professedly 
as  indifferent.  Reading  he  'cannot  remember  ever  to  have 
learned  ;'  so  perhaps  had  it  by  nature.  He  says  generally  :  '  Of 
'  the  insignificant  portion  of  my  Education,  which  depended  on 
'  Schools,  there  need  almost  no  notice  be  taken.  I  learned  what 
'  others  learnt ;  and  kept  it  stored  by  in  a  corner  of  my  head, 
j  seeing  as  yet  no  manner  of  use  in  it.  My  Schoolmaster,  a  down- 
'  bent,  brokenhearted,  underfoot  martyr,  as  others  of  that  guild 
'  are,  did  little  for  me,  except  discover  that  he  could  do  little  :  he, 
'  good  soul,  pronounced  me  a  genius,  fit  for  the  learned  profes- 
'  sions  ;  and  that  I  must  be  sent  to  the  Gymnasium,  and  one  day 
j  to  the  University.  Meanwhile,  what  printed  thing  soever  I  could 
\  meet  with  I  read.  My  very  copper  pocket-money  I  laid  out  on 
j  stall  literature  ;  which,  as  it  accumulated,  I  with  my  own  hands 
'  sewed  into  volumes.  By  this  means  was  the  young  head  fur- 
J  nished  with  a  considerable  miscellany  of  things  and  shadows  of 
'  things :  History  in  authentic  fragments  lay  mingled  with  Fabu- 
'  lous  chimeras,  wherein  also  was  reality ;  and  the  whole  not  as 
'  dead  stuff,  but  as  living  pabulum,  tolerably  nutritive  for  a  mind 
\  not  yet  so  peptic^ 

That  the  Entepfuhl  Schoolmaster  judged  well,  we  now  know. 
Indeed,  already  in  the  youthful  Gneschen,  with  all  his  outward 
stillness,  there  may  have  been  manifest  an  inward  vivacity  that 
promised  much ;  symptoms  of  a  spirit  singularly  open,  thoughtful 
almost  poetical.  Thus,  to  say  nothing  of  his  Suppers  on  the 
Orchard-wall,  and  other  phenomena  of  that  earlier  period,  have 
many  readers  of  these  pages  stumbled,  in  their  twelfth  year,  on 
such  reflections  as  the  following  ?  '  It  struck  me  much,  as  I  sat 
'  by  the  Kuhbach,  one  silent  noontide,  and  watched  it  flowing, 
'gurgling,  to  think  how  this  same  streamlet  had  flowed  and  gur- 
j  gled.  through  all  changes  of  weather  and  of  fortune,  from  beyond 
'the  earliest  date  of  History.  Yes,  probably  on  the  morning 
'  when  Joshua  forded  Jordan  ;  even  as  at  the  mid-day  when  Caesar 

5* 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


} 


'  doubtless  with  difficulty,  swam  the  Nile,  yet  kept  his  Commenta- 
'  rics  dry. — this  little  Kuhbach,  assiduous  as  Tiber,  Eurotas  or 
'  Siloa,  was  murmuring  on  across  the  wilderness,  as  yet  unnamed, 
'  unseen  ;  here,  too,  as  in  the  Euphrates  and  the  Ganges,  is  a  vein 
*  or  veinlet  of  the  grand  World-circulation  of  Waters,  which,  with 
'  its  atmospheric  arteries,  has  lasted  and  lasts  simply  with  the 
<  World.  Thou  fool !  Nature  alone  is  a.nthme.  ainLlhn-flldest  Art. 
1  a  mushroom ;  that  idle  crag  thou  sittest  on  is  six  thousand  years 
'  of  age.'  In  which  little  thought,  as  in  a  little  fountain,  may 
there  not  lie  the  beginning  of  those{wel_l-nigh  unutterable  medita- 
tions on  the  grandeur  and  mystery  of  Time,  andifs  relation  to 
EteknitYj  which  play  such  a  part  in  this  Philosophy  of  Clothes '? 

Over  his  Gymnastic  and  Academic  years  the  Professor  by  no 
means  lingers  so  lyrical  and  joyful  as  over  his  childhood.  Green 
sunny  tracts  there  are  still ;  but  intersected  by  bitter  rivulets  of 
tears,  here  and  there  stagnating  into  sour  marshes  of  discontent. 
'With  my  first  view  of  the  Hinterschlag  Gymnasium.'  writes  he, 
'  my  evil  days  began.  Well  do  I  still  remember  the  red  sunny 
1  Whitsuntide  morning,  when  trotting  full  of  hope,  by  the  side  of 
1  Father  Andreas,  I  entered  the  main  street  of  the  place,  and  sail 
'its  steeple  clock  (then  striking  Eight)  and  Schuldthurm  (Jail), 
'  and  the  aproned  or  disaproned  Burghers  moving  in  to  break- 
'  fast :  a  little  dog,  in  mad  terror,  was  rushing  past :  for  some 
'  human  imps  had  tied  a  tin  kettle  to  its  tail ;  thus  did  the 
agonised  creature,  loud  jingling,  career  through  the  whole  length 
'  of  the  Borough,  and  become  notable  enough. (Xjj'it  emblem  of 
many  a  Conquering  Hero,  to  whom  Fate  (wedding  Fantasy  to 
Sense,  as  it  often  elsewhere  does)  has  malignantly  appended  a 


tin   kettle  of  Ambition,  to  chase  him  on;  which,  the  faster  JmJ 
runs,  urges  liini  the  faster,  the  more  loudly  and  more  foolishlvj) 
Fit  emblem  also  of  much  that  awaited  myself,  in  that  mischie- 

■  vous    \)cn  ;    as    in    the   world,   whereof    it   was   a   portion   and 
'  epitome ! 

•  Alas,  the  kind  beech-rows  of  Entepfuhl  were   hidden  in  the 
'distance:  1  was  among  strangers,  harshly,  at  best  indifferently,  | 
'  disposed  towards  me;   the  young   heart    felt,  for  the  first  time, 
'quite  orphaned  and  alone/      His  school  fellows,  as  is  usual,  ner 
seeutodhim  :   '  They  were  Boys,'  he  says,  -mostly  rude  Boys,  an 


PEDAGOGY.  S3 


'  obejrejjbhe  impulse  of  rude  Nature,  which  bids  the  deerherd 
(  fall  upon  any  stricken  hart,  the  duck-flock  put  to  death  any 
'broken-winged  brother  or  sister,  and  on  all  hands  the  strong 
'  tyrannise  over  the  weak.'  He  admits  that  though  '  perhaps  in 
1  an  unusual  degree  morally  courageous,'  he  succeeded  ill  in  bat- 
tle, and  would  fain  have  avoided  it ;  a  result,  as  it  would  appear, 
owing  less  to  his  small  personal  stature  (for  in  passionate  seasons, 
he  was  '  incredibly  nimble'),  than  to  his  'virtuous  principles :'  'if 
'  it  was  disgraceful  to  be  beaten,'  says  he, '  it  was  only  a  shade  less 
'  disgraceful  to  have  so  much  as  fought :  thus  was  I  drawn  two 
'  ways  at  once,  and  in  this  important  element  of  school-history, 
'  the  war  element,  had  little  but  sorrow.'  On  the  whole,  that 
same  excellent  '  Passivity,'  so  notable  in  Teufelsdrock's  childhood, 
is  here  visibly  enough  again  getting  nourishment.  '  He  wept 
'  often  ;  indeed  to  such  a  degree  that  he  was  nicknamed  Der 
'  JVrincndc  (the  Tearful),  which  epithet,  till  towards  his  thirteenth 
'  year,  was  indeed  not  quite  unmerited.  Only  at  rare  intervals 
'  did  the  young  soul  burst  forth  into  fire-e}^ed  rage,  and,  with  a 
'  Stormfulness  ( Ungestum)  under  which  the  boldest  quailed, 
'  assert  that  he  too  had  Eights  of  Man,  or  at  least  of  Mankin.' 
In  all  which,  who  does  not  discern  a  fine  flower-tree  and  cinna- 
mon-tree (of  genius)  nigh  choked  among  pumpkins,  reedgrass, 
and  ignoble  shrubs  :  and  forced,  if  it  would  live,  to  struggle 
upwards  only,  and  not  outwards  ;  into  a  height  quite  sickly,  and 
clisproportioned  to  its  breadth  ?  ^  ■: 

We  find,  moreover,  that  his  Greek  and  Latin  were  '  mechanic- 1 
ally'  taught :  Hebrew  scarce  even  mechanically  ;  much  else  which 
they  call  History,  Cosmography,  Philosophy,  and  so  forth,  0m 
better  than  not  at  all.  So  that,  except  inasmuch  as  Nature  was 
still  busy  ;  and  he  himself  '  went  about,  as  was  of  old  his  wont, 
among  the  Craftsmen's  workshops,  there  learning  many  things  ;' 
and  farther  lighted  on  some  small  store  of  curious  reading,  in 
Hans  Wachtel  the  Cooper's  house,  where  he  lodged, — his  time,  it 
would  appear,  was  utterly  wasted.  "Which  facts  the  Professor 
had  not  yet  learned  to  look  upon  with  any  contentment.  Indeed, 
throughout  the  whole  of  this  Bag  Scorpio,  where  we  now  are,  and 
often  in  the  following  Bag,  he  shews  himself  unusually  animated 


S4  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

on  the  matter  of  E ducation,  and  nut  without  some  touch  of  what 
wc  might  presume  to  be  anger. 

'  My   teachers/   says  he,   '  were   hide-bound   Pedants,  without 
'  knowledge  of  man's  nature  or  of  boy's  ;  or  of  aught  save  their 
'  lexicons  and  quarterly  account-books.     Innumerable  dead  Vo- 
cables (no  dead  Language,  for  they  themselves  knew  no  Lan- 
guage) they  crammed  into  us,  and  called  it  fostering  the  growth 
'of  mind.     How  can  an  inanimate,  mechanical  Gerund-grinder, 
'  the  like  of  whom  will,  in  a  subsequent  century,  be  manufac- 
:  tured  at  Nurnberg  out  of  wood  and  leather,  foster  the  growth 
'  of  anything  ;  much  more  of  Mind,  which  grows,  not  like  a  vege- 
'  table  (by  having  its  roots  littered  with  etymological  compost), 
'but  like  a  Spirit,  by  mysterious  contact  of  Spirit;   Thought 
'  kindling  itself  at  the  lire  of  living  Thought  ?     How  shall  he 
'  give  kindling,  in  whose  own  inward  man  there  is  no  live  eoal, 
j  but  all  is  burnt  out  to  a  dead  grammatical  cinder  1     The  Hin- 
'  terschlag  Professors  knew  Syntax  enough  ;  and  of  the  human 
soul  thus  much  :  that  it  had  a  faculty  called  Memory,  and  could 
acted  on  through  the  muscular  integument  by  appliance  of 
birch  rods. 

'  Alas,  so  is  it  everywhere,  so  will  it  ever  be  :  till  the  Ilodnian 
•is  discharged,  or  reduced  to  Ilodbearing  :  and  an  Architect  is' 
'  hired,  and  on  all  hands  fitly  encouraged  :  till  communities  and 
^individuals  discover,  not  without  surprise,  that  fashioning  the 
[souls  of  a  generation  by  Knowledge  can  rank  on  a  level  with 
f  blowing  their  bodies  to  pieces  by  Gunpowder  ;  that  witli  Gene- 
/'  nils  and  Field-marshals  for  killing,  there  should  be  world-ho- 
'muirrd  Dignitaries,  and  were  it  possible,  true  God-ordained 
'rirricsts,  for  teaching.  But  as  yet.  though  the  soldier  wears 
'openly,  and  even  parades,  his  butchering  tool,  nowhere,  far  as  I 
'have  travelled,  did  the  Schoolmaster  make  show  of  his  instruct- 
'  ing-tool  :  nay  were  he  to  walk  abroad  with  lurch  girt  on  thigh, 
'  as  if  he  therefrom  expected  honour,  would  there  not,  among  the 
'  idler  class,  perhaps  a  certain  levity  be  excited  V 

In  the  third  year  of  this  Gymnasic  period,  Father  Andreas 
seems  to  have  died  :  the  young  Scholar,  otherwise  so  maltreated, 
saw  himself  for  the  first  time  clad  outwardly  in  sables,  and  in- 
wardly in  quite  inexpressible  melancholy      '  The  dark  bottomless 


'tei 


PEDAGOGY.  85 


'  Abyss,  that  lies  under  our  feet,  had  yawned  open  ;  the  pale 
'  kingdoms  of  Death,  with  all  their  innumerable  silent  nations 
'  and  generations  stood  before  him  ;  the  inexorable  word,  Never  ! 
J  now  first  shewed  its  meaning.  My  Mother  wept,  and  her  sor- 
1  row  got  vent ;  but  in  my  heart  there  lay  a  whole  lake  of  tears, 
pent  up  in  silent  desolation.  Nevertheless,  the  unworn  Spirit 
is  strong  ;  Life  is  so  healthful  that  it  even  finds  nourishment  in 
'  Death  :  these  stern  experiences,  planted  down  by  Memory  in 
my  Imagination,  rose  there  to  a  whole  cypress-forest,  sad  but 
j  beautiful ;  waving,  with  not  unmelodious  sighs,  in  dark  luxu- 
'  riance,  in  the  hottest  sunshine,  through  long  years  of  youth : — as 
'  in  manhood  also  it  does,  and  will  do ;  for  I  have  now  pitched 
'  my  tent  under  a  Cypress-tree  ;  the  Tomb  is  now  my  inexpugna- 
1  ble  Fortress,  ever  close  by  the  gate  of  which  I  look  upon  the 
*  hostile  armaments,  and  pains  and  penalties,  of  tyrannous  Life 
'  placidly  enough,  and  listen  to  its  loudest  threatenings  with  a 
'  still  smile.  0  ye  loved  ones,  that  already  sleep  in  the  noise- 
'  less  Bed  of  Rest,  whom  in  life  I  could  only  weep  for  and  never 
'  help  ;  and  ye,  who  wide-scattered  still  toil  lonely  in  the  mon- 
'  ster  bearing  Desert,  dyeing  the  flinty  ground  with  your  blood, 
' — yet  a  little  while,  and  we  shall  all  meet  there,  and  our 
'  Mother's  bosom  will  screen  us  all :  and  Oppression's  harness, 
'  and  Sorrow's  fire-whip,  and  all  the  Gehenna  Bailiffs  that  patrol 
'  and  inhabit  ever-vexed  Time,  cannot  thenceforth  harm  us  any 
'  more  !' 

Close  by  which  rather  beautiful  apostrophe,  lies  a  laboured 
Character  of    the   deceased   Andreas   Futteral ;    of  his  natural 
ability,  his  deserts  in  life  (as  Prussian  Sergeant) ;  with  long  his- 
torical inquiries  into  the  genealogy  of  the  Futteral  Family,  here 
traced  back  as  far  as  Henry  the  Fowler  :  the  whole  of  which  we 
pass  over,  not  without  astonishment.     It  only  concerns  us  to  add, 
that  now  was  the  time  when  Mother  Gretchen   revealed  to  her 
foster-son  that  he  was  not  at  all  of  this  kindred  ;  or  indeed  of 
any  kindred,  having  come  into  historical  existence  in  the  way  al- 
ready known  to  us.     '  Thus  was  I  doubly  orphaned,'   says  he ; 
bereftJiaLoil]j  of  Possession,  but  even  of  Remembrance.     Sor- 
row and  Wonder,  here  suddenly  united,  could  not  but  produce 
abandoned  fruit.     Such  a  disclosure,  in  such  a  season,  struck  its 


SO  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


roots  through  my  whole  nature  :  ever  till  the  years  of  mature 
manhood,  it  mingled  with  my  whole  thoughts,  was  as  the  stem  j 
whereon  all  my  day-dreams  and  night-dreams  grew.  A  certain  : 
p<  etio  elevation,  yet  also  a  corresponding  civic  depression,  it  na- 
turally imparted  :  I  was  like  no  other :  in  which  fixed-idea,  lead-  j 
ing  sometimes  to  highest,  and  oftener  to  frightfulest  results,  : 
may  there  not  lie  the  first  spring  of  Tendencies,  which  in  my  ' 

•  Life  have  become  remarkable  enough?     As  in  birth,  so  in  ac-  ' 
'  '  tion,  speculation,  and  social  position,  my  fellows  are  perhaps  not 

'  numerous.' 

In  the  Bag  Sagittarius,  as  we  at  length  discover,  Teufelsdrockh 
lias  become  a  University  man  ;  though  how,  when,  or  of  what  qual-  / 
ity,  will  nowhere  disclose  itself  with  the  smallest  certainty.    Few 
tilings,  in  the  way  of  confusion  and  capricious  indistinctness,  can  ; 
now  surprise  our  readers  ;  not  even  the  total  want  of  dates,  al- 
most without  parallel  in  a  Biographical  work.     So  enigmatic,  so 
chaotic  we  have  always  found,  and  must  always  look  to  find,  these 
scattered  Leaves.     In  Sagittarius,  however.  Teufelsdrockh  begins 
to  shew  himself  even  more  than  usually  Sibylline;  fragments  of 
all  sorts;  scraps  of  regular  Memoir,  College  Exercises,  Programs,-' 
Professional  Testimonials,  Milkscores,  torn  Billets,  sometimes  to 
appearance  of  an  amatory  cast ;  all  blown  together  as  if  by  mer- 
chance,  henceforth  bewilder  the  sane   Historian.     To  com-i 
bine  any  picture  of  these  University,  and  the  subsequent,  years  ; 
much  more,  to  decipher  therein   any  illustrative  primordial  ele- 
ments of  the  Clothes-Philosophy,  becomes  such  a  problem  as  the 
render  may  imagine. 

So  mueli  we  can  see  ;  darkly,  as  through  the  foliage  of  seme 
wavering  thicket:  a  youth  of  no  common  endowment,  who  has 
passed  happily  through  Childhood,  less  happily  yet  still  vigour 
OUsly  through  Boyhood,  now  at  length  perfect  in  'dead  vocables/, 
and  set  down,  as  he  hopes,  by  the  living  Fountain,  there  to  super 
add  Ideas  and  Capabilities.  From  such  Fountain  he  draws,  dili 
gently,  thirstily,  yd  unwise  with  his  whole  heart,  for  the  water 
nowise  suits  his  palate  j  discouragements,  entanglements,  aberra- 
tions are  discoverable  or  Bupposable.  Nor  perhaps  are  even  pej. 
cuniary  distresses  wanting  :  for  '  the  good  Gretchen,  who  in  spite 


PEDAGOGY.  S7 


1  of  advices  from  not  disinterested  relatives  has  sent  him  hither, 
1  must  after  a  time  withdraw  her  willing  hut  too  feeble  hand.' 
Nevertheless  in  an  atmosphere  of  Poverty  and  manifold  Cha- 
grin, the  Humour  of  that  young  Soul,  what  character  is  in 
him,  first  decisively  reveals  itself;  and,  like  strong  sunshine 
in  weeping  skies,  gives  out  variety  of  colours,  some  of  which 
are  prismatic.  Thus  with  the  aid  of  Time,  and  of  what  Time 
brings,  has  the  stripling  Diogenes  Teufelsdrockh  waxed  into 
manly  stature  ;  and  into  so  questionable  an  aspect,  that  we  ask 
/  with  new  eagerness  How  he  specially  came  by  it.  and  regret  anew 
that  there  is  no  more  explicit  answer.  Certain  of  the  intelligible 
and  partially  significant  fragments,  which  are  few  in  number, 
shall  be  extracted  from  that  Limbo  of  a  Paper-bag,  and  presented 
with  the  usual  preparation. 

As  if,  in  the  Bag  Scorpio,  Teufelsdrockh  had  not  already  ex- 
pectorated his  antipedagogic  spleen  ;  as  if,  from  the  name  Sagit- 
tarius, he  had  thought  himself  called  upon  to  shoot  arrows,  we 
here  again  fall  in  with  such  matter  as  this  :  '  The  University 
'  where  I  was  educated  still  stands  vivid  enough  in  my  remem- 
'  brance,  and  I  know  its  name  well ;  which  name,  however,  I, 
1  from  tenderness  to  existing  interests  and  persons,  shall  in  no 
'  wise  divulge.  It  is  my  painful  duty  to  say  that,  out  of  England 
1  and  Spain,  ours  was  the  worst  of  all  hitherto  discovered  Univer- 
1  sities.  This  is  indeed  a  time  when  right  Education  is,  as  nearly 
1  as  may  be,  impossible  :  however,  in  degrees  of  wrongness  there 
'  is  no  limit :  nay,  I  can  conceive  a  worse  system  than  that  of  the 
'""Nameless  itself;  as  poisoned  victual  may  be  worse  than  absolute 
'  hunger. 

'  It  is  written,  When  the  blind  lead  the  blind,  both  shall  fall 
'  into  the  jjitcji ;  wherefore,  in  sueR  circumstances,  may  it  not 
'  sometimes  be  safer,  if  both  leader  and  led  simply — sit  still  % 
1  Had  you,  anywhere  in  Crim  Tartary,  walled-in  a  square  enclo- 
'  sure  ;  furnished  it  with  a  small,  ill-chosen  Library  ;  and  then 
1  turned  loose  into  it  eleven  hundred  Christian  striplings,  to  tum- 
'  ble  about  as  they  listed,  from  three  to  seven  years  :  certain  per- 
'  sons,  under  the  title  of  Professors,  being  stationed  at  the  gates, 
'  to  declare  aloud  that  it  was  a  University,  and  exact  considerable 
1  admission-fees, — you  had,  not  indeed  in  mechanical  structure, 


88  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 

1  yet  in  spirit  and  result,  some  imperfect  resemblance  of  our  High 
'  Seminary.  I  say,  imperfect ;  for  if  our  mechanical  structure 
'  was  quite  other,  so  neither  was  our  result  altogether  the  same  : 
'  unhappily,  we  were  not  in  Crim  Tartary,  but  in  a  corrupt  Euro- 
'  pean  city,  full  of  smoke  and  sin  ;  moreover,  in  the  middle  of  a 
'  Public,  which,  without  far  costlier  apparatus,  than  that  of  the 
L  S  inare  Enclosure,  and  Declaration  aloud,  you  could  not  be  sure 
'  01  gulling.      » 

'  Gullible,  however,  by  fit  apparatus,  all  Publics  are  ;  and 
'  gulled,  writh  the  most  surprising  profit.  Towards  any  thing 
'  like  a  Statistics  of  Imposture]  indeed,  little  as  yet  has  been  done  : 
1  with  a  strange  indifference,  our  Economists,  nigh  buried  under 
'  Tables  for  minor  Branches  of  Industry,  have  altogether  over- 
'  looked  the  grand  all-overtopping  Hypocrisy  Branch  ;  as  if  our 
'  whole  arts  of  Puffery,  of  Quackery,  Priestcraft,  Kingcraft,  and 
'  the  innumerable  other  crafts  and  mysteries  of  that  genus,  had 
'  not  ranked  in  Productive  Industry  at  all !  Can  any  one,  for 
'  example,  so  much  as  say,  What  moneys,  in  Literature  and  Shoe- 
1  blacking,  are  realized  by  actual  Instruction  and  actual  jet  Pol- 
'  ish ;  what  by  fictitious-persuasive  Proclamation  of  such  :  speei- 
'  fying,  in  distinct  items,  the  distributions,  circulations,  disburse- 
1  mcnts,  incomings  of  said  moneys,  with  the  smallest  approach  to 
'  accuracy  ?  But  to  ask,  How  for,  in  all  the  several  infinitely 
'  complected  departments  of  social  business,  in  government,  educa- 
1  tion,  in  manual,  commercial,  intellectual  fabrication  of  every 
1  sort,  man's  "Want  is  supplied  by  true  Ware  ;  how  far  by  the 
'  mere  Appearance  of  true  Ware  : — in  other  words,  To  what  ex- 
'  tent,  by  what  methods,  with  what  effects,  in  various  times  and 
1  countries,  Deception  takes  the  place  and  wages  of  Performance; 
'  hoc  truly  is  an  Inquiry  big  with  results  for  the  future  time,  but 
L  to  which  hitherto  only  the  vaguest  answer  can  be  given.  If  for 
1  the  present,  in  our  Europe,  we  estimate  the  ratio  of  Ware  to, 
'  Appearance  of  Ware  so  high  even  as  at  One  to  a  Hundred 
'  (which,  considering  the  Wages  of  a  Pope,  Russian  Autocrat,  or 
'  English  Game-Preserver,  is  probably  not  far  from  the  mark), — 
'what  almost  prodigious  Baring  may  there  not  be  anticipated,  as 
■  the  Statistics  of  Imposture  advances.  ;ind  so  the  manufacturing 
'  of  Shams  (that  of  Realities  rising  into  clearer  and  clearer  dis- 


PEDAGOGY.  89 


c  tinction  therefrom)  gradually  declines,  and  at  length  becomes  all 
'  but  wholly  unnecessary  ! 

'  This  for  the  coming  golden  ages.  What  I  had  to  remark,  for 
;  the  present  brazen  one,  is,  that  in  several  provinces,  as  in  Edu- 
'  cation,  Polity,  Religion,  where  so  much  is  wanted  and  indispen- 
l-  sable,  and  so  little  can  as  yet  be  furnished,  probably  Imposture 
'  is  of  sanative,  anodyne  nature,  and  man's  Gullibility  not  his 
'  worst  blessing.  Suppose  your  sinews  of  war  quite  broken ;  I 
1 1  mean  your  military  chest  insolvent,  forage  all  but  exhausted  ; 
'  and  that  the  whole  army  is  about  to  mutiny,  disband,  and  cut 
'  your  and  each  other's  throat. — then  were  it  not  well  could  you, 
'  as  if  by  miracle,  pay  them  in  any  sort  of  fairy-money,  feed  them 
'  on  coagulated  water,  or  mere  imagination  of  meat ;  whereby,  till 
'  the  real  supply  came  up,  they  might  be  kept  together,  and  quiet  ?  *^~ 
'  Such  perhaps  was  the  aim  of  Nature,  who  does  nothing  without 
'  aim,  in  furnishing  her  favourite,  Man,  with  this  his  so  omnipo- 
'  tent  or  rather  omnipatient  Talent  of  being  Gulled. 

'  How  beautifully  it  works,  with  a  little  mechanism ;  nay,  al- 
'  most  makes  mechanism  for  itself !  These  Professors  in  the 
1  Nameless  lived  with  ease,  with  safety,  by  a  mere  Reputation, 
'constructed  in. past  times,  and  then  too  with  no  great  effort, 
'  by  quite  another  class  of  persons.  Which  Reputation,  like  a 
:  strong  brisk-going  undershot-wheel,  sunk  into  the  general  cur- 
'-  rent,  bade  fair,  with  only  a  little  annual  repainting  on  their 
'  part,  to  hold  long  together,  and  of  its  own  accord  assiduously 
1  grind  for  tliem.  '  Happy  that  it  was  so,  for  the  Millers  !  They 
'  themselves  needed  not  to  work ;  their  attempts  at  working,  at 
what  they  called  Educating,  now  when  I  look  back  on  it.  fill  me 
with  a  certain  mute  admiration. 

1  Besides  all  this,  we  boasted  ourselves  a  Rational  University  ; 
in  the  highest  degree,  hostile  to  Mysticism  ;  thus  was  the  young 
:  vacant  mind  furnished  with  much  talk  about  Progress  of  the 
Species,  Dark  Ages,  Prejudice,  and  the  like  ;  so  that  all  were    J 
quickly  enough  blown  out  into  a  state  of  windy  argumentative-    1    y^ 
ness  ;  whereby  the  better  sort  had  soon  to  end  in  sick,  impotent    1 
Scepticism ;  the  worser  sort  explode  (crepiren)  in  finished  Self-    ' 
conceit,  and  to  all  spiritual  intents  become  dead. — But  this  too 
•  is  portion  of  mankind's  lot.     If  our  era  is  the  Era  of  Unbelief, 


90  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 


^why  murmur  under  it ;  is  there  not  a  better  coming,  nay  come? 
j  As  in  longdrawn  Systole  and  longdrawn  Diastole,  must  the  p3j 
A  riod  of  Faith  alternate  with  the  period  of  Denial :  must  the 
I*  vernal  growth,  the  summer  luxuriance  of  all  Opinions,  Spiritual 
'  Representations  and  Creations,  be  followed  by,  and  again  follow, 
'  the  autumnal  decay,  the  winter  dissolution.  For  man  lives  in 
1  Time,  has  his  whole  earthly  being,  endeavour,  and  destinj 
'  shaped  for  him  by  Time :  only  in  the  transitory  Time-Symbol  If 
1  is  the  ever-motionless  Eternity  we  stand  on  made  manifest. 
1  And  yet,  in  such  winter-seasons  of  Denial,  it  is  for  the  nobler- 
c  minded  perhaps  a  comparative  misery  to  have  been  born,  and  to 
'  be  awake,  and  work ;  and  for  the  duller  a  felicity,  if  like  hiber- 
c  nating  animals,  safe-lodged  in  some  Salamanca  University,  or 
'  Sybaris  City*  or  other  superstitious  or  voluptuous  Castle  of  In- 
'  dolence,  they  can  slumber  through,  in  stupid  dreams,  and  only 
'  awaken  when  the  loud-roaring  hailstorms  have  all  done  their  i 
j  work,  and  to  our  prayers  and  martyrdoms  the  new  Spring  has 
(  been  vouchsafed.' 

That  in  the  environment,  here  mysteriously  enough  shadowed 

forth,  Teufelsdrockh  must  have  felt  ill  at  ease,  cannot  be  doubt- 

.  ful.     '  The  hungry  young,'  he  says,  l  looked  up  to  their  spiritual 

I  Nurses ;  and,  for  food,  were  bidden  eat  the  east  wind.  "What 
\  vain  jargon  of  controversial  Metaphysic,  Etymology,  and  me- 
'  chanical  Manipulation  falsely  named  Science,  was  current  there, 
'  I  indeed  learned,  better  perhaps  than  the  most.  Among  eleven 
•  hundred  <  Ihristian  youths,  there  will  not  be  wanting  some  eleven 
-  eager  to  learn.     By  collision  with  such,  a  certain  warmth,  a  cer- 

'  tain  polish  was  communicated  :  by  instinct  and  happy  accident,  c 

II  took  less  to  rioting  (renommiren),  than  to  thinking  and  read- 

'  ing,  which  latter  also  I  was  free  to  do.  Nay  from  the  chaos  of  tj 
'  that  Library,  I  succeeded  in  fishing  up  more  books  perhaps  than 
k  had  been  known  to  the  very  keepers  thereof.  The  foundation 
f  of  a  Literary  Life  was  hereby  laid  :  I  learned,  on  my  own,\ 
L  strength,  to  read  fluently  in  almost  all  cultivated  languages,  on 
'almost  all  subjects,  and  sciences;  farther,  as  man  is  ever  the 
( prime  object  to  man,  already  it  was  mj  favourite  employment  to 
read  character  in  speculation,  and  from  the  Writing  to  construe' 
'the  Writer.     A  certain  groundplan  of  Human  Nature  and  LiftM 


PEDAGOGY.  91 


'  began  to  fashion  itself  in  me  ;  wondrous  enough,  now  when  I 
1  look  back  on  it ;  for  my  whole  Universe,  physical  and  spiritual, 
'  was  as  yet  a  Machine  \  However,  such  a  conscious,  recognized 
1  groundplan,  the  truest  I  had,  was  beginning  to  be  there,  and  by 
'additional  experiment^- might  be  corrected  and  indefinitely 
'  extended.' 

Thus  from  poverty  does  the  strong  educe  nobler  wealth ;  thus 
in  the  destitution  of  the  wild  desert,  does  our  young  Ishmael 
acquire  for  himself  the  highest  of  all  possessions,  that  of  Self-help. 
Nevertheless  a  desert  this  was,  waste,  and  howling  wifn^savage" 
monsters.  Teufelsdrockh  gives  us  long  details  of  his  '  fever-par- 
oxysms of  Doubt ;'  his  Inquiries  concerning  Miracles,  and  the 
Evidences  of  religious  Faith ;  and  how  '  in  the  silent  night- 
1  watches,  still  darker  in  his  heart  than  over  sky  and  earth,  he 
i  has  cast  himself  before  the  All-seeing,  and  with  audible  prayers, 
j  cried  vehemently  for  Light,  for  deliverance  from  Death  and  the 
'  Grave.  Not  till  after  long  years,  and  unspeakable  agoniefc,  did 
1  the  believing  heart  surrender ;  sink  into  spell-bound  sleep, 
'  under  the  nightmare,  Unbelief :  and,  in  this  hag-ridden  dream, 
1  mistake  God's  fair  living  world  for  a  pallid,  vacant  Hades  and , 
|  extinct  Pandemonium.  But  through  such  Purgatory  pain,' 
continues  he,  '  it  is  appointed  us  to  pass ;  first  must  the  dead 
I  Letter  of  Religion  own  itself  dead,  and  drop  piecemeal  into 
I  dust,  if  the  living  Spirit  of  Religion,  freed  from  this  its  charnel- 
I  house,  is  to  arise  on  us,  newborn  of  Heaven,  and  with  new  heal- 
I  ing  under  its  wings.'  , , 

To  which  Purgatory  pains,  seemingly  severe  enough,  if  we  add 
a  liberal  measure  of  Earthly  distresses,  want  of  practical  gui- 
dance, want  of  sympathy,  want  of  money,  want  of  hope  :  and  all 
this  in  the  fervid  season  of  youth,  so  exaggerated  in  imagining, 
so  boundless  in  desires,  yet  here  so  poor  in  means, — do  we  not 
see  a  strong  incipient  spirit  oppressed  and  overloaded  from  with- 
out and  from  within  ;  the  fire  of  genius  struggling  up  among  fuel- 
wood  of  the  greenest,  and  as  yet  with  more  of  bitter  vapour  than 
of  clear  flame. 

From  various  fragments  of  Letters  and  other  documentary 
scraps,  it  is  to  be  inferred  that  Teufelsdrockh,  isolated,  shy,  re- 
tiring as  he  was,  had   not  altogether  escaped  notice  :    certain 


92  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


established  men  are  aware  of  his  existence ;  and,  if  stretching 
out  no  helpful  hand,  have  at  least  their  eyes  upon  him.  He 
appears,  though  in  dreary  enough  humour,  to  be  addressing  him- 
self to  the  Profession  of  Law  ; — whereof,  indeed,  the  world  has 
since  seen  him  a  public  graduate.  But  omitting  these  broken, 
unsatisfactory  thrums  of  Economical  relation,  let  us  present 
rather  the  following  small  thread  of  Moral  relation  ;  and  there- 
with, the  reader  for  himself  weaving  it  in  at  the  right  place,  con- 
clude our  dim  arras  picture  of  these  University  years. 

'  Here  also  it  was  that  I  formed  acquaintance  with  Ilerr  Tow- 
1  good,  or,  as  it  is  perhaps  better  written,  Herr  Toughgut ;  a 
'young  person  of  quality  (von  Add),  from  the  interior  parts  of 
1  England.  He  stood  connected,  by  blood  and  hospitality,  with 
'  the  Counts  von  Zahdarm,  in  this  quarter  of  Germany ;  to  whichx 
'  noble  Family  I  likewise  was,  by  his  means,  with  all  friendliness, 
{  brought  near.  Towgood  had  a  fair  talent,  unspeakably  ill-culti- 
'  vated  ;  with  considerable  humour  of  character  :  and,  bating  hisL1' 
'  total  ignorance,  for  he  knew  nothing  except  Boxing  and  a  little    ' 

•  Grammar,  shewed  less  of  that  aristocratic-impassivity,  and  sjjent^  ' 
.  '  fury,  than  for  most  part  belongs  fy)  Travellers  of  his  nation.    ' 

'  To  him  I  owe  my  first  practical  knowledge  of  the  English  and  ,' 
'  their  ways  ;  perhaps  also  something  of  the  partiality  with  which  ' 
'  I  have  ever  since  regarded  that  singular  people.     Towgood  was    * 

•  not  without  an  eye.  could  lie  have  come  at  any  light.  Invited  ' 
'  doubtless  by  the  presence  of  the  Zahdarm  Family,  he  had  tra-  ,' 
'  veiled  hither,  in  the  almost  frantic  hope  of  perfecting  his  studies ; 

<  he,  whose  studies  had  as  yet  been  those  of  infancy,  hither  to-  a   3 
'  University  where  so  much  as  the  notion  of  perfection,  not  to  say   r 
'  the  effort  after  it,  no  longer,  existed!     Often  we  would  condole   s 
'over  the  hard  destiny  of  the  Young  in  this  era:  how,  after  all 
'  our  toil,  we  were  to  be  turned  out  into  the  world,  with  beards  on 
'  our  chins  indeed,  but  with  few  other  attributes  of  manhood  :    no 

•  existing  thing  that  we  were  trained  to  Act  on,  nothing  that  wo 

[  could  so  much  as  Believe.     "  How  has  our  head  on  the  outside   ; 
•a    polished    Hat."  would   Towgood  exclaim, ''and  in   the  inside 
1  Vacancy,  or  a  froth  of  Vocables  and    Attorney  Logic!     At  a 
•small  cost  men  are  educated  to  make  leather  into  shoes;  butTSt 
•a  great  cost,  what  ;im   T  educated   to  make?      By  Heaven.  Bro-  . 


I 


PEDAGOGY.  93 


*  ther !  what  I  have  already  eaten  and  worn,  as  I  came  thus  far, 
'would  endow  a  considerable  Hospital  of  Incurables." — "  Man, 
1  indeed,"  I  would  answer,  "  has  a  Digestive  JFacul t v.  which  must 
'  be  kept  working,  were  it  even  paruyT^stealtn^jJut  as  for  our\ 
'  Miseducation,  make  not  bad  worse  ;   waste  not  the  time  yet  y 
'  ours,  in  trampling  on  thistles  because  they  have  yielded  us  no  V 
'  figs.     Frisch  zu  Bruder !     Here  are  Books,  and  we  have  brains 
'  to  read  them ;  here  is  a  whole  Earth  and  a  whole  Heaven,  andV 
'  we  have  eyes  to  look  on  them  :  Frisch  zu  /" 

'  Often  also  our  talk  was  gay ;  not  without  brilliancy,  and  even 
1  fire.  We  looked  out  on  Life,  with  its  strange  scaffolding,  where 
'  all  at  once  harlequins  dance,  and  men  are  beheaded  and  quar- 
1  tered :  motley,  not  unterrific  was  the  aspect ;  but  we  looked  on 
1  it  like  brave  youths.  For  myself,  these  were  perhaps  my  most 
'  genial  hours.  Towards  this  young  warmhearted,  strongheaded 
'  and  wrongheaded  Herr  Towgood,  I  was  even  near  experiencing 
'  the  now  obsolete  sentiment  of  Friendship.  Yes,  foolish  Heathen 
j  that  I  was,  I  felt  that,  under  certain  conditions,  I  could  have 
1  loved  this  man,  and  taken  him  to  my  bosom,  and  been  his  bro- 
'  ther  once  and  always.  By  degrees,  however,  I  understood  the 
1  new  time,  and  its  wants.  If  man's  Soul  is  indeed,  as  in  the  Fin- 
1  nish  Language,  and  Utilitarian  Philosophy,  a  kind  of  Stomach, 
'  what  else  is  the  true  meaning  of  Spiritual  Union  but  an  Eating 
{ together  ?  Thus  we,  instead  of  Friends,  are  Dinner-guests  ;  and 
j  here  as  elsewhere  have  cast  away  chimeras.' 

So  ends,  abruptly  as  is  usual,  and  enigmatically,  this  little  in- 
cipient romance.  What  henceforth  becomes  of  the  brave  Herr 
Towgood,  or  Toughgut  ?  He  has  dived  under,  in  the  Autobio- 
graphical Chaos,  and  swims  we  see  not  where.  Does  any  reader 
•  in  the  interior  parts  of  England'  know  of  such  a  man  ? 


94  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 


CHAPTER    IV. 


GETTING  UNDER  WAY. 


'-  Tims  nevertheless,'  writes  our  Autobiographer,  apparently  as 
quitting  College,  '  was  there  realised  Somewhat ;  namely,  I, 
.  c  Diogenes  Teufelsdrockh  :  a  visible  Temporary  Figure  (Zeitbild), 
^r  '  occupying  some  cubic  feet  of  Space,  and  containing  within  it 
'  Forces  both  physical  and  spiritual :  hopes,  passions,  thoughts  ; 
'  the  whole  wondrous  furniture,  in  more  or  less  perfection,  belong- 
1  ing  to  that  mystery,  a  Man.  Capabilities  there  were  in  me  to 
1  give  battle,  in  some  small  degree,  against  the  great  Empire  of 
'  Darkness  :  does  not  the  very  Ditcher  and  Delver,  with  his  spade, 
extinguish  many  a  thistle  and  puddle  ;  and  so  leave  a  little 
Order,  where  he  found  the  opposite?  Nay  your  very  Daymnth 
'  has  capabilities  in  this  kind  ;  and  ever  organises  something  (into 
'  its  own  Body,  if  no  otherwise),  which  was  before  Inorganic  ;  and 
'  of  mute  dead  air  makes  living  music,  though  only  of  the  faint- 
'  est,  by  humming. 

'  How  much  more,  one  whose  capabilities  are  spiritual  ;  who 
'  has  learned,  or  begun  learning,  the  grand  tMumaturgic  art  of 
'  Thought!  Thaumaturgic  I  name  it;  for  hitherto  all  Miracles 
1  have  been  wrought  thereby,  and  henceforth  innumerable  will  M 
'  wrought  ;  whereof  we,  even  in  these  days,  witness  some.  Of 
'the  Poet's  and  Prophet's  inspired  Message,  and  how  it  makes 
'and  unmakes  whole  Worlds,  I  shall  forbear  mention;  but  cannot 
'  the  dullest  hear  Steam-engines  clanking  around  him?  Has  hi 
•  not  seen  the  Scottish  Brassmith's  Idea  (and  this  but  a  mechani- 
'  cal  our)  travelling  on  fire-wings  round  the  Cape,  and  across  two 
'•  Oceans:  and  stronger  than  any  other  Enchanter's  Familiar,  on 
'  all  hands  nnweariedly  fetching  and  carrying:  at  home,  not  only 
'  weaving  Cloth  ;  but  rapidly  enough  overturning  the  whole  old 
« system  of  Society  :   and.  for  Feudalism  and   Preservation  of  the 


GETTING  UNDER  WAY.  95 

Game,  preparing  us,  by  indirect  but  sure  methods,  Industrial- 
ism and  the  Government  of  the  Wisest  ?  Truly  a  Thinking  Man 
is  the  worst  enemy  the  Prince  of  Darkness  can  have  ;  every 
time  such  a  one  announces  himself,  I  doubt  not,  there  runs  a 
shudder  through  the  Nether  Empire  ;  and  new  Emissaries  are 
trained,  with  new  tactics,  to,  if  possible,  entrap  him,  and  hood- 
wink and  handcuff  him. 

'  With  such  high  vocation  had  I  too,  as  denizen  of  the  Uni- 
verse, been  called.  Unhappy  it  is,  however,  that  though  born 
to  the  amplest  Sovereignty,  in  this  way,  with  no  less  than  sove- 
reign right  of  Peace  and  War  against  the  Time-Prince  (Zeil- 
furst),  or  Devil,  and  all  his  Dominions,  your  coronation-ceremony 
costs  such  trouble,  your  sceptre  is  so  difficult  to  get  at,  or  even 
to  get  eye  on  !' 

By  which  last  wiredrawn  similitude,  does  Teufelsdrockh  mean 
io  more  than  that  ycjingnien  find  obstacles  in  what  we  call  '-  get-- 
^ing  under  way  V  '  £{ot  what  I  Have,'  continues  he,  :  but  what 
I.,T)n  is  my  Kingdom.  IVTach  is  given  a  certain  inward  Tal- 
ent, a  certain  outward  Environment  of  Fortune  ;  to  each,  by 
wisest  combination  of  these  two,  a  certain  maximum  of  Capa- 
bility. But  the  hardest  problem  were  ever  this  first :  To  find 
by  study  of  yourself,  and  of  the  ground  you  stand  on,  what  your 
combined  inward  and  outward  Capability  specially  is.  For, 
alas,  our  young  soul  is  all  budding  with  Capabilities,  and  we  see l 
not  yet  which  is  the  main  and  true  one.  Always  too  the  new 
man  is  in  a  new  time,  under  new  conditions  ;  his  course  can  be 
the  facsimile  of  no  prior  one,  b«fc4s-&y^ii&.nutuj^-ei4«inaX  And 
then  how  seldom  will  the  outward  Capability  fit  the  inward  : 
though  talented  wonderfully  enough,  we  are  poor,  unfriendly, 
dyspeptical,  bashful ;  nay  what  is  worse  than  all,  we  are  foolish. 
Thus,  in  a  whole  imbroglio  of  Capabilities,  we  go  stupidly  grop- 
ing about,  to  grope  which  is  ours,  and  often  clutch  the  wrong- 
one  :  in  this  mad  work,  must  several  years  of  our  small  term  be 
spent,  till  the  purblind  Youth,  by  practice,  acquire  notions  of 
distance,  and  become  a  seeing  Man.  Nay,  many  so  spend  their 
whole  term,  and  in  ever-new  expectation,  ever-new  disappoint-  i 
aaent,  shift  from  enterprise  to  enterprise,  and  from  side  to  side  : 


96  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


c  till  at  length,  as  exasperated  striplings  of  threescore  and  ten, 
'  they  shift  into  their  last  enterprise,  that  of  getting  buried. 

'  Such,  since  the  most  of  us  are  too  ophtlialniie, would  be  the 
1  general  fate  ;  were  it  not  that  one  thing  saves  us  :  our  Hunger. "' 
4  For  on  this  ground,  as  the  prompt  nature  of  Hunger  is  welLj' 
'  known,  must  a  prompt  choice  be  made  :  hence  have  we,  with 
'  wise  foresight,  Indentures  and  Apprenticeships  for  our  irra-  ^ 
'  tional  young  ;  whereby,  in  due  season,  the  vague  universality 
1  of  a  Man  shall  find  himself  ready-moulded  into  a  specific  Crafts 
'man;  and  so  thenceforth  work,  with  much  or  with  little  waste: 
'  of  Capability  as  it  may  be  ;  yet  not  with  the  worst  waste,  that ' 
'  of  time.     Nay  even  in  matters  spiritual,  since  the  spiritual  art- ' 
1  ist  too  is  born  blind,  and  does  not,  like  certain  other  creatures, ) 
1  receive  sight  in  nine  days,  but  far  later,  sometimes  never, — is  it ' 
'  not  well  that  there  should  be  what  we  call  professions,  or  Bread- ' 
1  studies  (BrodtzwecJce),  preappointed  us  ?     Here,  circling  like  the' 
'  gin-horse,  for  whom  partial  or  total  blindness  is   no  evil,  the  ' 
'  Bread-artist  can  travel  contentedly  round  and  round,  till  fancy- ' 
'  ing  that  it  is  forward  and  forward  ;  and  realize  much  :  for  him- 
'  self  victual ;  for  the  world  an  additional  horse's  power  in  the  ' 
'  grand  corn-mill  or  hemp-mill  of  Economic  Society.     For  me  too  ' 
*  had  such  a  leading-string  been  provided ;  only  that  it  proved  1 
'  a  neck-halter,  and  had  nigh  throttled  me,  till  I  broke  it.     Then, 
'  in  the  words  of  Ancient  Pistol,  did  the  World  generally  become 
'  mine  oyster,  which  I,  by  strength  of  cunning,  was  to  open,  as  I 
\       '  would  and  could.     Almost  had  I  deceased  (fast  war  ich  umgc- 
.'  kommen),  so  obstinately  did  it  continue  shut.' 


We  see  here,  significantly  foreshadowed,  the  spirit  of  much 
that  was  to  befall  our  Autobiographer  ;  the  historical  embodiment 
of  which,  as  it  painfully  takes  shape  in  his  Life,  lies  scattered,  iu 
dim  disastrous  details,  through  this  Bag  Pisces:  and  those  that 
follow.  |j  A  young  man  of  high  talent,  and  high  though  still  tem- 
per, like  a  young  mettled  colt,  '  breaks  off  his  neck-halter,'  and 
bounds  forth,  from  his  peculiar  manger,  into  the  wide  world  ; 
which,  alas,  he  finds  all  rigorously  fenced  in.  Richest  clover- 
fields  tempt  his  eye  ;  but  to  him  they  are  forbidden  pasture  : 
either  pining  iu  progressive  starvation,  he  must  stand;  or,  in 
mad  exasperation,  must  rush  to  and   fro.  leaping  against  sheer  I 


GETTING   UNDER  WAY.  97 

stone  walls,  which  he  cannot  leap  over,  which  only  lacerate  and 
lame  him  :  till  at  last,  after  thousand  attempts  and  endurances, 
he,  as  if  by  miracle,  clears  his  way :  not  indeed  into  luxuriant 
and  luxurious  clover,  yet  into  a  certain  bosky  wilderness  where 
existence  is  still  possible,  and  Freedom  though  waited  on  by 
Scarcity  is  not  without  sweetness.  In  a  word,  Teufelsdrockh 
having  thrown  up  his  legal  Profession,  finds  himself  without  land- 
mark of  outward  guidance  :  whereby  his  previous  want  of  decided 
Belief,  or  inward  guidance,  is  frightfully  aggravated.  Necessity 
urges  him  on  ;  Time  will  not  stop,  neither  can  he,  a  Son  of  Time  ; 
wild  passions  without  solacement,  wild  faculties  without  employ- 
ment, ever  vex  and  agitate  him.  He  too  must  enact  that  stern 
Monodrama,  No  Object  and  no  Rest ;  must  front  its  successive 
destinies,  work  through  to  its  catastrophe,  and  deduce  therefrom 
what  moral  he  can. 

Yet  let  us  be  just  to  him,  let  us  admit  that  his  '  neck-halter' 
sat  nowise  easy  on  him ;  that  he  was  in  some  degree  forced  to 
break  it  off.  If  we  look  at  the  young  man's  civic  position,  in 
this  Nameless  Capital,  as  he  emerges  from  its  Nameless  Univer- 
sity, we  can  discern  well  that  it  was  far  from  enviable.  His  first 
Law-Examination  he  has  come  through  triumphantly ;  and  can 
even  boast  that  the  Examen  Rigorosum  need  not  have  frightened 
him  :  but  though  he  is  hereby  '  an  Auscultator  of  respectability' 
what  avails  it?  There  is  next  to  no  employment  to  be  had. 
Neither,  for  a  youth  without  connexions,  is  the  process  of  Expec- 
tation very  hopeful  in  itself ;  nor  for  one  of  his  disposition  much 
cheered  from  without.  'My  fellow  Auscultators,'  he  says,  <  were 
I  Auscultators  :  they  dressed,  and  digested,  and  talked  articulate 
'  words  ;  other  vitality  shewed  they  almost  none.  Small  specu- 
I  lation  in  those  eyes,  that  they  did  glare  withal !  Sense  neither 
I  for  the  high  nor  for  the  deep,  nor  for  aught  human  or  divine, 
'  save  only  for  the  faintest  scent  of  coming  Preferment.'  In 
which  words,  indicating  a  total  estrangement  on  the  part  of  Teu- 
felsdrockh, may  there  not  also  lurk  traces  of  a  bitterness  as  from 
wounded  vanity?  Doubtless  these  prosaic  Auscultators  may 
have  sniffed  at  him,  with  his  strange  ways  :  and  tried  to  hate,  and 
what  was  much  more  impossible,  to  despise  him.  Friendly  com- 
municnf,  in  any  case,  there  could  not  be  :  already  has  the  young 

6 


9S  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 

Teufelsdrockk  left  the  other  young  geese  ;  and  swims  apart, 
though  as  yet  uncertain  whether  he  himself  is  cygnet  or  gos- 
ling. 

Perhaps  too  what  little  employment  he  had  was  performed  ill, 
at  best  unpleasantly.  '  Great  practical  method  and  expertuess' 
he  may  brag  of;  but  is  there  not  also  great  practical  pride, 
though  deep-hidden,  only  the  deeper-seated  ?  So  shy  a  man  can 
never  have  been  popular.  We  figure  to  ourselves,  how  in  those 
days  he  may  have  played  strange  freaks  with  his  Independence, 
and  so  forth  :  do  not  his  own  words  betoken  as  much  %  l  Like  a 
very  }'Oung  person,  I  imagined  it  was  with  Work  alone,  and  not 
'  also  with  Folly  and  Sin,  in  myself  and  others,  that  I  have  been 
i  appointed  to  struggle.'  Be  this  as  it  may,  his  progress  from  the 
passive  Auscultatorship,  towards  any  active  Assessorship,  is  evi- 
dently of  the  slowest.  By  degrees,  those  same  established  men, 
once  partially  inclined  to  patronise  him,  seem  to  withdraw  their 
countenance,  and  give  him  up  as  'a  man  of  genius  :'  against  ^ 
which  procedure  he,  in  these  Papers,  loudly  protests.  '  As  if,' 
says  he,  '  the  higher  did  not  presuppose  the  lower  ;  as  if  he  who 
'  can  fly  into  heaven,  could  not  also  walk  post  if  he  resolved  on  it ! 

(f  But  the  world  is  an  old  woman,  and  mistakes  any  gilt  farthing    , 
'  for  a  gold  coin  ;  whereby  being  often  cheated  she  will  thence- 
1  forth  trust  nothing  but  the  common  copper. 

How  our  winged  sky-messenger,  unaccepted  as  a  terrestrial 
runner,  contrived,  in  the  meanwhile,  to  keep  himself  from  flying 
skyward  without  return,  is  not  too  clear  from  these  Documents. 
Good  old  (iretchen  seems  to  have  vanished  from  the  scene,  per- 
haps from  the  Earth  ;  other  Horn  of  Plenty,  or  even  of  Parsi- 
mony, nowkere  flows  for  him;  so  that  -the  prompt  nature  of 
Hunger  being  well  known. ;  we  are  not  without  our  anxiety. 
From  private  Tuition,  in  never  bo  many  languages  and  sciences, 
the  aid  derivable  is  small  :  neither,  to  use  his  own  words,  •  does 
1  the  young  Adventurer  hitherto  suspect  in  himself  any  literary 
'gift;  but  at  besl  earns  bread-and-water  wages,  by  his  wide  fac- 
'  ulty  of  Translation.     Nevertheless,'  continues  he, '  that  I  sub- 

isted  is  clear,  for  you  find  me  even  now  alive.5  Which  fact, 
however,  except  upon  the  principle  of  our  true-hearted,  kind    >ld 


> 


:j 


GETTING  UNDER  WAY.  99 

Proverb,  that l  there  is  always  life  for  a  living  one,'  we  must  pro- 
fess ourselves  unable  to  explain. 

Certain  Landlords'  Bills,  and  other  economic  Documents,  bear- 
ing the  mark  of  Settlement,  indicate  that  he  was  not  without 
money ;  but,  like  an  independent  Hearth-holder,  if  not  House- 
holder, paid  his  way.  Here  also  occur,  among  many  others,  two 
little  mutilated  Notes,  which  perhaps  throw  light  on  his  condi- 
tion. The  first  has  now  no  date,  or  writer's  name,  but  a  huge 
Blot ;  and  runs  to  this  effect :  '  The  (Inkblot),  tied  down  by  pre- 
'vious  promise,  cannot,  except  by  best  wishes,  forward  the  Herr 
|  Teufelsdrockh's  views  on  the  Assessorship  in  question  ;  and  sees 
'  himself  under  the  cruel  necessity  of  forbearing,  for  the  present, 
'  what  were  otherwise  his  duty  and  joy,  to  assist  in  opening  the 
I  career  for  a  man  of  genius,  on  whom  far  higher  triumphs  are 
1  yet  waiting.'  The  other  is  on  gilt  paper  ;  and  interests  us  like  a 
sort  of  epistolary  mummy  now  dead,  yet  which  once  lived  and 
beneficently  worked.  We  give  it  in  the  original :  '  Herr  Teufcls- 
1  drockh  wird  von  der  Frau  Grcifinn,  auf  Donnerstag,  zum  ^Esthe- 
1  tischen  Thee,  schonstens  ein^eladen.1 

Thus  in  answer  to  a  cry  for  solid  pudding,  whereof  there  is 
the  most  urgent  need,  comes  epigrammatically  enough,  the  invi- 
tation to  a  wash  of  quite  fluid  JEsthetic  Tea!  How  Teufels- 
drockh,  now  at  actual  handgrips  with  Destiny  herself,  may  have 
comported  himself  among  these  Musical  and  Literary  Dilettanti 
of  both  sexes,  like  a  hungry  lion  invited  to  a  feast  of  chickenweed, 
we  can  only  conjecture.  Perhaps  in  expressive  silence,  and  ab- 
stinence :  otherwise  if  the  lion,  in  such  case,  is  to  feast  at  all,  it 
cannot  be  on  the  chickenweed,  but  only  on  the  chickens.  For 
the  rest,  as  this  Frau  Grafinn  dates  from  the  Zdhdarm  House, 
she  can  be  no  other  than  the  Countess  and  mistress  of  the  same ; 
whose  intellectual  tendencies,  and  good  will  to  Teufelsdrockh, 
whether  on  the  footing  of  Herr  Towgood,  or  on  his  own  footing, 
are  hereby  manifest.  That  some  sort  of  relation,  indeed,  con- 
tinued, for  a  time,  to  connect  our  Autobiographer,  though  per- 
haps feebly  enough,  with  this  noble  House,  we  have  elsewhere 
express  evidence.  Doubtless,  if  he  expected  patronage,  it  was  in 
vain  :  enough  for  him  if  he  here  obtained  occasional  glimpses  of 


100  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

the  great  world,  from  which  we  at  one  time  fancied  him  to  have 
been  always  excluded.  '  The  Zahdarms,'  says  he,  '  lived  in  the 
'  soft  sumptuous  garniture  of  Aristocracy  ;  whereto  Literature 
'  and  Art,  attracted  and  attached  from  without,  were  to  serve  as 
'  the  handsomest  fringing.  It  was  to  the  G/idiigc/i  Fran  (her 
'  Ladyship)  that  this  latter  improvement  was  due  :  assiduously 
'  she  gathered,  dexterously  she  fitted  on,  what  fringing  was  to  be 
c  had  ;  lace  or  cobweb,  as  the  place  yielded.'  "Was  Teufels- 
drockh  also  a  fringe,  of  lace  or  cobweb  ;  or  promising  to  be  such  ? 
'  With  his  Excellenz  (the  Count),'  continues  he,  '  I  have  more 
'  than  once  had  the  honour  to  converse  ;  chiefly  on  general  affairs, 
1  and  the  aspect  of  the  world,  which  he,  though  now  past  middle 
'  life,  viewed  in  no  unfavourable  light ;  finding  indeed,  except  the 
'  Outroeting  of  Journalism  (die  auszurottende  Journalist  ik),  little 
'to  desiderate  therein.  On  some  points,  as  his  Excellenz  was 
1  not  uncholeric,  I  found  it  more  pleasant  to  keep  silence.  Be- 
'  sides,  his  occupation  being-  that  of  Owning  Land,  there  might 
'  be  faculties  enough,  which,  as  superfluous  for  such  use,  were  lit] 
'  tie  developed  in  him. 

That  to  Teufelsdrockk  the  aspect  of  the  world  was  nowise  so 
faultless,  and  many  things  besides  '  the  Outrooting  of  Journalism,' 
might  have  seemed  improvements,  we  can  readily  conjecture. 
With  nothing  but  a  barren  Auscultatorship  from  without,  and  so 
many  mutinous  thoughts  and  wishes  from  within,  his  position  Avas 
no  easy  one.  '  The  Universe,  he  says, '  was  as  a  mighty  Sphinx- 
'  riddle,  which  I  knew  so  little  of,  yet  must  rede,  or  be  devoured. 
'  In  red  streaks  of  unspeakable  grandeur,  yet  also  in  the  black- 
'  ness  of  darkness,  was  Life,  to  my  too-unfurnished  Thought,  un- 
'  folding  itself.  A  strange  contradiction  lay  in  me  :  and  I  as  yet 
'  knew  not  the  solution  of  it ;  knew  not  that  spiritual  music  can 
{  spring  only  from  discords  set  in  unison  :  that  but  for  Evil  there 
'were  no  Good,  as  victory  is  only  possible  by  battle.' 

'  I  have  heard  affirmed  (surely  in  jest),'  observes  he  elsewhere, 
'  by  not  unpliilanthropic  persons,  that  it  were  a  real  increase  of 
'  human  happiness,  could  all  young  men  from  the  age  of  nineteen 
'  be  covered  under  barrels,  or  rendered  otherwise  invisible  ;  and 
'  there  left  to  follow  their  lawful  studies  and  callings,  till  they 


GETTING  UNDER  WAY.  101 


'emerged,  sadder  and  wiser,  at  the  age  of  twenty-five.  With 
'  which  suggestion,  at  least  as  considered  in  the  light  of  a  practi- 
'  cal  scheme,  I  need  scarcely  say  that  I  nowise  coincide.  Never- 
1  theless  it  is  plausibly  urged  that,  as  young  ladies  (Mddche?i) 
''  are,  to  mankind,  precisely  the  most  delightful  in  those  years  ; 
'  so  young  gentlemen  (Biibcheii)  do  then  attain  their  maximum 
'of  detestability.  Such  gawks  (Gecken)  are  they,  and  foolish 
'  peacocks,  and  yet  with  such  a  vulturous  hunger  for  self-indul- 
'  gence  :  so  obstinate,  obstreperous,  vain-glorious ;  in  all  senses, 
'  so  froward  and  so  forward  /  No  mortal's  endeavour  or  attain- 
'  ment  will,  in  the  smallest,  content  the  as  yet  unendeavouring, 
'  unattaining  young  gentleman  ;  but  he  could  make  it  all  infi- 
'  nitely  better,  were  it  worthy  of  him.  Life  every  where  is  the 
'  most  manageable  matter,  simply  as  a  question  in  the  Rule  of 
'  Three  :  multiply  your  second  and  third  term  together,  divide 
'  the  product  by  the  first,  and  your  quotient  will  be  the  answer, 
'  — which  you  are  but  an  ass  if  you  cannot  come  at.  The  booby 
'  has  not  yet  found  out,  by  any  trial,  that,  do  what  one  will,  there 
'  is  ever  a  cursed  fraction,  oftenest  a  decimal  repeater,  and  no 
'  net  integer  quotient  so  much  as  to  be  thought  of.' 

In  which  passage  does  there  not  lie  an  implied  confession  that 

Teufelsdrockh  himself,  besides  his  outward  obstructions,  had  an  : 

inward,  still  greater,  to  contend  with ;  namely,  a  certain  tempo- 1 

rary,  youthful,  yet  still  afflictive  derangement  of  head  ?     Alas  ! ' 

on  the  former  side  alone,  his  case  was  hard  enough.     '  It  contin- 

i  bes  ever  true,'  says  he,  '  that  Saturn,  or  Chronos,  or  what  we 

'  call  Time,  devours  all  his  Children  :  only  by  incessant  Running, 

by  incessant  Working,  may  you  (for  some  threescore  and  ten 

years)  escape  him  ;  and  you  too  he   devours  at  last.     Can  any 

Sovereign,  or  Holy  Alliance  of  Sovereigns,  bid  Time  stand  still ; 

even  in  thought,  shake  themselves  free  of  Time  ?     Our  wholes 

terrestrial  being  is  based  on   Time,  and   built  of  Time  ;  it  is 

wholly  a  Movement,  a  Time-impulse ;  Time  is  the  author  of  it, 

I  the  material  of  it.     Hence  also  our  Whole  Duty,  which  is  to 

j  move,  to  work, — in  the  right  direction.     Are  not  our  Bodies  and 

'  our  Souls  in  continual   movement,  whether  we  will  or  not ;  in  a 

I  continual  Waste,  requiring  a  continual  Repair  ?     Utmost  satis- 


^ 


102  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

'  faction  of  our  whole  outward  and  inward  Wants  were  but  satis- 
'  faction  for  a  space  of  Time  ;  thus,  whatso  we  have  done,  is  done, 
'  and  for  us  annihilated,  and  ever  must  we  go  and  do  anew.  0 
c  Time-Spirit,  how  hast  thou  environed  and  imprisoned  us,  and 
1  sunk  us  so  deep  in  thy  troublous  dim  Time-Element,  that,  only 
1  in  lucid  moments,  can  so  much  as  glimpses  of  our  upper  Azure 
'  Home  be  revealed  to  us  !  Me,  however,  as  a  Son  of  Time;  un- 
'  happier  than  some  others,  was  Time  threatening  to  eat  quite 
'  prematurely  ;  for,  strive  as  I  might,  there  was  no  good  Running, 
'  so  obstructed  was  the  path,  so  gyved  were  the  feet.'  That  is  to 
say,  we  presume,  speaking  in  the  dialect  of  this  lower  world,  that 
^7  /fTeufelsdrockh's  whole  duty  and  necessity  was,  like  other  men's, 
(X  l  to  work, — in  the  right  direction,'  and  that  no  work  was  to  be 
•had ;  whereby  he  became  wretched  enough.  As  was  natural : 
with  haggard  Scarcity  threatening  him  in  the  distance ;  and  so 
vehement  a  soul  languishing  in  restless  inaction,  and  forced 
thereby,  like  Sir  Hudibras's  sword  by  rust, 


Of  something  else  to  hew  and  hack  ! 

But  on  the  whole,  that  same  '  excellent  Passivity,'  as  it  has  all 
along  done,  is  here  again  vigorously  flourishing  ;  in  which  circum- 
stance, may  we  not  trace  the  beginnings  of  much  that  now  charac- 
terises our  Professor  ;  and  perhaps,  in  faint  rudiments,  the  origin 
of  the  Clothes-Philosophy  itself?  Already  the  attitude  he  has 
assumed  towards  the  World  is  too  defensive  ;  not,  as  would  have 
been  desirable,  a  bold  attitude  of  attack.  '  So  far  hitherto,'  he 
Bays,  w  as  I  had  mingled  with  mankind.  I  was  notable,  if  for  any 
'  thing,  for  a  certain  stillness  of  manner,  which,  as  my  friends 
•often  rebukingly  declared,  did  but  ill  express  the  keen  ardour  of 
"my  feelings.  I,  in  truth,  regarded  men  with  an  excess  both  of 
'love  and  of  fear.  The  mystery  of  a  Person,  indeed,  is  ever 
'divine,  to  him  that  has  a  sense  for  the  Godlike.  Often,  notwith- 
standing, was  I  blamed,  and  by  half-strangers  haled  tor  my  so- 
•  railed  Hardness  ( IFtirlr).  my  1  mlitl'erentism  towards  men;  and 
'  the  seemingly  ironic  tone  I  had  adopted,  as  my  favourite  dia- 


GETTING   UNDER  WAY.  103 

'lect  in  conversation.  Alas,  the  panoply  of  Sarcasm  was  but  as 
'a  buckram  case,  wherein  I  had  striven  to  envelope  myself;  that 
1  so  my  own  poor  Person  might  live  safe  there,  and  in  all  friendli- 
'  ness,  being  no  longer  exasperated  by  wounds.  Sarcasm  I  now 
'  see  to  be,  in  general,  the  language  of  the  Devil ;  for  which  reason 
' 1  have,  long  since,  as  good  as  renounced  it.  But  how  many 
I  individuals  did  I,  in  those  days,  provoke  into  some  degree  of 
'  hostility  thereby  !  An  ironic  man,  with  his  sly  stillness,  and 
'  ambuscading  ways,  more  especially  an  ironic  young  man,  from 

whom  it  is  least  expected,  may  be  viewed  as  a  pest  to  society. 
1  Have  we  not  seen  persons  of  weight  and  name,  coming  forward, 

with  gentlest  indifference,  to  tread  such  a  one  out  of  sight,  as 

an  insignificancy  and  worm,  start  ceiling-high  (balkenhoch), 
'and  thence  fall  shattered  and  supine,  to  be  borne  home  on 
'  shutters,  not  without  indignation,  when  he  proved  electric  and 
1  a  torpedo !' 

x\las,  how  can  a  man  with  this  devilishness  of  temper  make 
way  for  himself  in  Life ;  where  the  first  problem,  as  Teufels- 
drockh  too  admits,  is  'to  unite  yourself  with  some  one,  and 
with  somewhat  (sick  anzuschliessen)  V  Division,  not  union,  is 
written  on  most  part  of  his  procedure.  Let  us  add  too  that, 
in  no  great  length  of  time,  the  only  important  connexion  he 
had  ever  succeeded  in  forming,  his  connexion  with  the  Zah- 
darin  Family,  seems  to  have  been  paralysed,  for  all  practical  uses, 
by  the  death  of  the  '  not  uncholeric'  old  Count.  This  fact  stands 
recorded,  quite  incidentally,  in  a  certain  Discourse  on  Epitaphs, 
huddled  into  the  present  Bag,  among  so  much  else ;  of  which 
Essay  the  learning  and  curious  penetration  are  more  to  be 
approved  of  than  the  spirit.  His  grand  principle  is,  that  lapidary 
inscriptions,  of  what  sort  soever,  should  be  Historical  rather  than 
Lyrical.  '  By  request  of  that  worthy  Nobleman's  survivors,'  says^^^ 
he,  '  I  undertook  to  compose  his  Epitaph ;  and  not  unmindful  or^^^ 
'  my  own  rules,  produced  the  following ;  which,  however,  for  an 
}  alleged  defect  of  Latinity,  a  defect  never  yet  fully  visible  to 
'myself,  still  remains  unengraven  ;' — wherein,  we  may  pre- 
dict, there  is  more  than  the  Latinity  that  will  surprise  an  Eng- 
lish reader : 

(UNIVERSITY 


104   *  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

IIIC    JACET 

PHILIPPUS  ZAEHDARM,  COGNOMINE  MAGNUS, 

Zaehdarmi  Comes, 

ex  imperii  concilio, 

velleris  aurei,  periscelidis,  necnon  vulturis  nigri 

EQUES. 
QUI  DUM  SUB  LUNA  AGEBAT, 

QUINQUIES  MILLE  PERDRICES 

PLUMB  O    CONFECIT  I 

VARII  CIBI 

CENTUMPONDIA    MILLIES    CENTENA    MILLIA, 

PER    SE,    PERQUE    SERVOS    QUADRUPEDES    BIPEDESVE, 

HAUD    SINE    TUMULTU   DEVOLVENS, 

IN  STERCUS 

PALAM    CONVERTIT. 

NUNC    A    LABORE    REQUIESCENTEM 
OPERA    SEQUUNTUR. 

SI   MONUMENTUM   QUiERIS, 
FIMETUM    ADSPICE. 

PRIMUM   IN    ORBE    DEJECIT    [sub  dato]  )    TOSTREMUM    [SM&  dalo]. 


ROMANCE.  105 


CHAPTER    V. 


ROMANCE. 


'  For  long  years,'  writes  Teufelsdrockh,  l  had  the  poor  Hebrew, 
1  in  this  Egypt  of  an  Auscultatorship,  painfully  toiled,  baking 
'  bricks  without  stubble,  before  ever  the  question  once  struck  him 
'  with  entire  force  :  For  what  ? — Beym  Himmel !  For  Food  and 
!  Warmth  !  And  are  Food  and  Warmth  nowhere  else,  in  the 
'  whole  wide  Universe,  discoverable  ? — Come  of  it  what  might,  I 
/'  resolved  to  try.' 

Thus  then  are  we  to  see  him  in  a  new  independent  capacity, 
though  perhaps  far  from  an  improved  one.  Teufelsdrockh  is  now 
a  man  without  Profession.  Quitting  the  common  Fleet  of  her- 
ring-busses and  whalers,  where  indeed  his  leeward,  laggard  con- 
dition was  painful  enough,  he  desperately  steers  off,  on  a  course  of 
his  own,  by  sextant  and  compass  of  his  own.  Unhappy  Teufels- 
drockh !  Though  neither  Fleet,  nor  Traffic,  nor  Commodores 
pleased  thee,  still  was  it  not  a  Fleet,  sailing  in  prescribed  track,  for 
fixed  objects  ;  above  all,  in  combination,  wherein,  by  mutual  guid- 
ance, by  all  manner  of  loans  and  borrowings,  each  could  manifold- 
ly aid  the  other  ?  How  wilt  thou  sail  in  unknown  seas  ;  and  for 
thyself  find  that  shorter  North-west  Passage  to  thy  fair  Spice-coun- 
try of  a  Nowhere  ? — A  solitary  rover  on  such  a  voyage,  with  such 
nautical  tactics,  will  meet  with  adventures.  Nay,  as  we  forth- 
with discover,  a  certain  Calypso-Island  detains  him  at  the  verjf 
outset ;  and  as  it  were  falsifies  and  oversets  his  whole  reckoning. 

'  If  in  youth^' .writes  he  once,  :  the  Universe  is  majestically  un- 
'  veiling,  and  everywhere  Heaven  revealing  itself  on  Earth,  no- 
'  where  to  the  Young  Man  does  this  Heaven  on  Earth  so  imme- 
'  diately  reveal  itself  as  in  the  Young  Maiden.  Strangely 
'enough,  in  this  strange  life  of  ours,  it  has  been  so  appointed. 
'  On  the  whole,  as  I  have  often  said,  a  Person  ( Personlir.hke.it)  is 

6* 


106  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

■ ~tt ■ 

1  ever  holy  to  us  ;  a  certain  orthodox  Anthropomorphism  connects 
'  my  Me  with  all  Thees  in  bonds  of  Love  :  but  it  is  in  this  approx- 
'  imation  of  the  Like  and  Unlike,  that  such  heavenly  attraction, 
'  as  between  Negative  aud  Positive,  first  burns  out  into  a  flame. 
Ms  the  pitifulest  mortal  Person,  think  you.  indifferent  to  us?  Is 
'  it  not  rather  our  heartfelt  wish  to  be  made  one  with  him  ;  to 
'  unite  him  to  us,  by  gratitude,  by  admiration,  even  by  fear  :  or. 
'  failing  all  these,  unite  ourselves  to  him  ?  But  how  much  more, 
'  in  this  case  of  the  Like-Unlike  !  Here  is  conceded  us  the  higher 
1  mystic  possibility  of  such  a  union,  the  highest  in  our  Earth  ; 
1  thus,  in  the  conducting  medium  of  Fantasy,  flames  forth  that 
'  /^-development  of  the  universal  Spiritual  Electricity,  which,  as 
1  unfolded  between  man  and  woman.  we~fiFst~emphatically  denom- 
'  inate  Love. 
;      '  In  every  well-conditioned  stripling,  as  I  conjecture,  there  al- 

•  ready  blooms  a  certain  prospective  Paradise,  cheered  by  some 
j '  fairest  Eve  ;  nor,  in  the  stately  vistas,  and  flowerage  and  foliage 
>]'  of  that  Garden,  is  a  Tree  of  Knowledge,  beautiful  and  awful  in 

'the  midst  thereof,  wanting.  Perhaps  too  the  whole  is  but  the 
; u  lovelier,  if  Cherubim  and  a  Flaming  Sword  divide  it  from  all 
'  footsteps  of  men  ;  and  grant  him,  the  imaginative  stripling,  only 
'  the  view,  not  the  entrance.  Happy  season  of  virtuous  youth, 
c  when  Shame  is  still  an  impassable  celestial  barrier ;  and  the  sa- 
'  cred  air-cities  of  Hope  have  not  shrunk  into  the  mean  clay-ham- 
'  lets  of  Reality  ;  and  man,  by  his  nature,  is  yet  infinite  and  free  ! 
'  As  for  our  young  Forlorn,'  continues  Teufelsdrockh,  evident- 
ly meaning  himself,  k  in  his  secluded  way  of  life,  and  with  his 
'glowing  Fantasy,  the  more  fiery  that  it  burnt  under  cover,  as  in 
'  a  reverberating  furnace,  his  feeling  towards  the  Queens  of  this 
'  Earth  was.  and  indeed  is,  altogether  unspeakable.      A  visible 

•  Divinity  dwelt  in  them  ;  to  our  young  Friend  all  women  were 
'  holy,  were  heavenly.  As  yet  he  but  saw  them  flitting  past,  in 
'  their  many-coloured  angel-plumage  ;  or  hovering  mute  and  inac< 
i  cessible  on  the  outskirts  of  JEsthetic  Tea  :  all  of  air  they  were,  all 

•  Soul  and  Form  :  so  lovely,  like  mysterious  priestesses,  in  whose 
'  hand  was  the  invisible  Jacob's-ladder.  whereby  man  might  mount 
'into  very  Heaven.  That  he,  our  poor  Friend,  should  ever  win 
'  for  himself  one  of  these  Graeefuls  ( Holden)  Ach  Goti !  how  could 


ROMANCE.  107 


1  he  hope  it ;  should  he  not  have  died  under  it  1     There  was  a 
1  certain  delirious  vertigo  in  the  thought. 

'  Thus  was  the  young  man,  if  all  sceptical  of  Demons  and  An- 
'  gels  such  as  the  vulgar  had  once  believed  in,  nevertheless  not 
i  unvisited  by  hosts  of  true  Sky-born,  who  visibly  and  audibly 
'  hovered  round  him  whereso  he  went ;  and  they  had  that  reTi- 
( gious  worship  in  his  thought,  though  as  yet  it  was  by  their  mere 
1  earthly  and  trivial  name  that  he  named  them.  But  now,  if  on  a 
1  soul  so  circumstanced,  some  actual  Air-maiden,  incorporated  into 
1  tangibility  and  reality,  should  cast  any  electric  glance  of  kind 
c  eyes,  saying  thereby,  a  Thou  too  mayest  love  and  be  loved  ;"  and 
'  so  kindle  him, — good  Heaven,  what  a  volcanic,  earthquake-bring- 
1  ing,  all-consuming  fire  were  probably  kindled  !' 

Such  a  fire,  it  afterwards  appears,  did  actually  burst  forth,  with 
explosions  more  or  less  Vesuvian,  in  the  inner  man  of  Herr  Di- 
ogenes ;  as  indeed  how  could  it  fail  ?  A  nature,  which,  in  his 
own  figurative  style,  we  might  say,  had  now  not  a  little  carbon- 
ised tinder,  of  Irritability  ;  with  so  much  nitre  of  latent  Passion, 
and  sulphurous  Humour  enough  ;  the  whole  lying  in  such  hot 
neighbourhood,  close  by  '  a  reverberating  furnace  of  Fantasy :' 
have  we  not  here  the  components  of  driest  Gunpowder,  ready,  on 
occasion  of  the  smallest  spark,  to  blaze  up  1  Neither,  in  this  our 
Life-element,  are  sparks  anywhere  wanting.  Without  doubt, 
some  Angel,  whereof  so  many  hovered  round,  would  one  day, 
leaving  i  the  outskirts  of  JEsthetic  Tea,''  flit  nigher  ;  and,  by  elec- 
tric Promethean  glance,  kindle  no  despicable  firework.  Happy, 
if  it  indeed  proved  a  Firework,  and  flamed  off  rocket-wise,  in  suc- 
cessive beautiful  bursts  of  splendour,  each  growing  naturally  from 
the  other,  through  the  several  stages  of  a  happy  Youthful  Love ; 
till  the  whole  were  safely  burnt  out ;  and  the  young  soul  relieved, 
with  little  damage  !  Happy,  if  it  did  not  rather  prove  a  Confla- 
gration and  mad  Explosion  :  painfully  lacerating  the  heart  itself : 
nay  perhaps  bursting  the  heart  in  pieces  (which  were  Death) ;  or 
I  at  best,  bursting  the  thin  walls  of  your  '  reverberating  furnace,' 
,  so  that  it  rage  thenceforth  all  unchecked  among  the  contiguous 
combustibles  (which  were  Madness)  :  till  of  the  so  fair  and  mani- 
fold internal  world  of  our  Diogenes,  there  remained  Nothing,  or 
only  the  '  crater  of  an  extinct  volcano  !' 


108  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


From  multifarious  Documents  in  this  Bag  Cajjriconius,  and  in 
the  adjacent  ones  on  both  sides  thereof,  it  becomes  manifest  that 
our  Philosopher,  as  stoical  and  cynical  as  he  now  looks,  was  hearti- 
ly and  even  franticly  in  Love  :  here  therefore  may  our  old  doubts 
whether  his  heart  were  of  stone  or  of  flesh  give  way.  Hejoved 
it  wi^J^kut-ioawell.  And  once  only  :  for  as  your  Con- 
greve  needs  a  new  case  or  wrappage  for  every  new  rocket,  so  each 
human  heart  can  properly  exhibit  but  one  Love,  if  even  one  ;  the 
1  First  Love  which  is  infinite'  can  be  followed  by  no  second  like 
unto  it.  In  more  recent  years,  accordingly,  the  Editor  of  these 
Sheets  was  led  to  regard  Teufelsdrockh  as  a  man  not  only  who 
would  never  wed,  but  who  would  never  even  flirt ;  whom  the 
grand-climacteric  itself,  and  St.  Martin's  Summer  of  incipient 
Dotage,  would  crown  with  no  new  myrtle  garland.  To  the  Pro- 
fessor, women  are  henceforth  Pieces  of  Art ;  of  Celestial  Art.  in- 
deed ;  which  celestial  pieces  he  glories  to  survey  in  galleries,  but 
has  lost  thought  of  purchasing. 

Psychological  readers  are  not  without  curiosity  to  see  how  Teu- 
felsdrockh, in  this  for  him  unexampled  predicament,  demeans 
himself;  with  what  specialities  of  successive  configuration,  splen- 
dour and  colour,  his  Firework  blazes  off.  Small,  as  usual,  is  the 
satisfaction  that  such  can  meet  with  here.  From  amid  these 
confused  masses  of  Eulogy  and  Elegy,  with  their  mad  Petrarchan 
and  Werterean  ware  lying  madly  scattered  among  all  sorts  of 
quite  extraneous  matter,  not  so  much  as  the  fair  one's  name  can 
be  deciphered.  For,  without  doubt,  the  title  Blumjne,  whereby 
she  is  here  designated,  and  which  means  simply  Goddess  of  Flow- 
ers, must  be  fictitious.  Was  her  real  name  Flora,  then?  But 
what  was  her  surname,  or  had  she  none?  Of  what  station  in 
Life  was  she;  of  what  parentage,  fortune,  aspect  .'  Specially,  by 
what  Pre  established  Harmony  of  occurrences  did  the  Lover  and 
the  Loved  meet  one  another  in  so  wide  a  world  :  how  did  they 
behave  in  such  meeting?  To  all  which  questions,  not  unessential 
in  a  Biographic  work,  mere  Conjecture  must  for  most  part  return 
answer.  '  It  was  appointed,'  says  our  Philosopher,  i  that  the  high 
'celestial  orbit  of  Blumine  should  intersect  the  low  sublunary  one 
'  of  our  Forlorn  ;  that  he,  looking  in  her  empyrean  eyes,  should 
'  fancy  the  upper  Sphere  of  Light  was  come  down  into  this  nether 


ROMANCE.  109 


1  sphere  of  Shadows  ;  arid  finding  himself  mistaken,  make  noise 
f  enough.' 

We  seem  to  gather  that  she  was  young,  hazel-eyed,  beautiful, 
and  some  one's  Cousin  :  highborn  and  of  high  spirits  ;  but  un- 
happily dependent  and  insolvent ;  living,  perhaps,  on  the  not  too 
gracious  bounty  of  monied  relatives.  But  how  came  '  the  Wan- 
derer' into  her  circle  ?  Was  it  by  the  humid  vehiele  of  JEsthctic 
Tea.  or  by  the  arid  one  of  mere  Business  ?  Was  it  on  the  hand 
of  Herr  Towgood  ;  or  of  the  Gnadige  Frau,  who,  as  an  ornamental 
Artist,  might  sometimes  like  to  promote  flirtation,  especially  for 
young  cynical  Nondescripts  ?  To  all  appearance,  it  was  chiefly 
by  Accident,  and  the  grace  of  Nature. 

1  Thou  fair  Waldschloss,'  writes  our  Autobiographer,  '  what 
'  stranger  ever  saw  thee,  were  it  even  an  absolved  Auscultator, 
'  officially  bearing  in  his  pocket  the  last  Relatio  ex  Actis  he  would 
'  ever  write  ;  but  must  have  paused  to  wonder  !  Noble  Mansion  ! 
'  There  stoodest  thou,  in  deep  Mountain  Amphitheatre,  on  urn- 
<  brageous  lawns,  in  thy  serene  solitude  ;  stately,  massive,  all  of 
1  granite  :  glittering  in  the  western  sunbeams,  like  a  palace  of  El 
1  Doredo,  overlaid  with  precious  metal.  Beautiful  rose  up,  in 
'  wavy  curvature,  the  slope  of  thy  guardian  Hills  :  of  the  green- 
'  est  was  their  sward,  embossed  with  its  dark-brown  frets  of  crag, 
1  or  spotted  by  some  spreading  solitary  Tree  and  its  shadow.  To 
'  the  unconscious  Wayfarer  thou  wert  also  as  an  Ammon's  Tem- 
c  pie,  in  the  Libyan  Waste  ;  where,  for  joy  and  woe,  the  tablet  of 
'  his  Destiny  lay  written.  Well  might  he  pause  and  gaze ;  in 
'  that  glance  of  his  were  prophecy  and  nameless  forebodings.' 

But  now  let  us  conjecture  that  the  so  presentient  Auscultator 
has  handed  in  his  Relaiio  ex  Actis ;  been  invited  to  a  glass  of 
Rhine-wine  :  and  so.  instead  of  returning  dispirited  and  athirst  to 
his  dusty  Town-home,,  is  ushered  into  the  Gardenhouse,  where  sit 
the  choicest  party  of  dames  and  cavaliers  ;  if  not  engaged  in  ^Es- 
thetic Tea,  yet  in  trustful  evening  conversation,  and  perhaps 
Musical  Coffee,  for  we  hear  of  '  harps  and  pure  voices  making  the 
stillness  live.'  Scarcely,  it  would  seem,  is  the  Gardenhouse  infe- 
rior in  respectability  to  the  noble  Mansion  itself.  '  Embowered 
'  amid  rich  foliage,  rose-clusters,  and  the  hues  and  odours  of  thou- 
'  sand  flowers,  here  sat  that  brave  company ;  in  front,  from  the 


110  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 

'  wide-opened   doors,  fair  outlook  over  blossom  and   bush,  over  j 
'  grove  and  velvet  green,  stretching,  undulating  onwards  to  the 
'  remote  Mountain  peaks  :  so  bright,  so  mild,  and  everywhere  the 
'  melody  of  birds  and  happy  creatures  :  it  was  all  as  if  man  had 
'  stolen  a  shelter  from  the  Sun  in  the  bosom-vesture  of  Summer  I 
'  herself.     How  came  it  that  the  Wanderer  advanced  thither  with  | 
'  such  forecasting  heart  (ahndungsvoll),  by  the  side  of  his  gay 
'  host  %     Did  he  feel  that  to  these  soft  influences  his  hard  bosom 
f  ought  to  be  shut ;  that  here,  once  more,  Fate  had  it  in  view  to 
'  try  him  ;  to  mock  him,  and  see  whether  there  were  Humour  in  ' 
4  him?    • 

'  Next  moment  he  finds  himself  presented  to  the  party ;  and 
'  especially  by  name  to — Blumine  !  Peculiar  among  all  dames 
'  and  damosels,  glanced  Blumine,  there  in  her  modesty,  like  a  star 
'  amo^ig  earthly  lights.  Noblest  maiden  !  whom  he  bent  to,  in 
1  body  and  in  soul ;  yet  scarcely  dared  look  at,  for  the  presence 
'  filled  him  with  painful  yet  sweetest  embarrassment. 

•  Blumine's  was  a  name  well  known  to  him  ;  far  and  wide  was 
'the  fair  one  heard  of,  for  her  gifts,  her  graces,  her  caprices: 
'  from  all  which  vague  colourings  of  Rumour,  from  the  censures  ■ 
'no  less  than  from  the  praises,  had  our  Friend  painted  for  him-  • 
'  self  a  certain  imperious  Queen  of  Hearts,  and  blooming  warm  i 
'  Earth-angel,    much   more   enchanting   than    your   mere   white 
'  Heaven-angels  of  women,  in  whose  placid  veins  circulates  too 
'  little  naphtha-fire.      Herself  also  he  had  seen  in  public  places  ; 
'that  light,  yet  so  stately  form  ;  those  dark  tresses,  shading  a'- 
'  face  where  smiles  and  sunlight  played  over  earnest  deeps  :  butt 
1  all  this  be  had  ^cen  only  as  a  magic  vision,  for  him  inaccessible,] 
'  almost  without  reality.     Her  sphere  was  too  far  from  his  ;  how 
'  should  she  ever  think  of  him;   0  Heaven  !  how  should  they  so| 
'  much  as  once  meet  together?     And  now  that  Rose-goddess  sits  j 
L  in  the  same  circle  with  him  ;  the  light  of  her  eyes  has  smiled  oni 
'  him,  if  he  speak  she  will  hear  it!     Nay,  who  knows,  since  the 
'heavenly  Sun  looks  into  lowest  valleys,  but  Blumine  herself 
'  might  have  aforetime  noted  the  so  unnotable  ;  perhaps,  from  his 
'  very  gainsayers,  as  he  had  from  hers,  gathered  wonder,  gathered 
'favour   for  him?      Was   the   attraction,  the  agitation  mutual,. 
'  then  ;    pole  and   pole  trembling  towards   contact,   when   oncel 


ROMANCE.  ill 


'  brought  into   neighbourhood  ?  *  Say  rather,  heart  swelling  in 
c  presence  of  the  Queen  of  Hearts ;  like  the  Sea  swelling  when 


•  once  near  its  Moon  !  With  the  Wanderer  it  was  even  so  :  as  in 
1  heavenward  gravitation,  suddenly  as  at  the  touch  of  a  Seraph's 
{  wand,  his  whole  soul  is  roused  from  its  deepest  recesses  :  and  all 
:  that  was  painful,  and  that  was  blissful  there,  dim  images,  vague 
'  feelings  of  a  whole  Past  and  a  whole  Future,  are  heaving  in  un- 
;  quiet  eddies  within  him. 

'  Often,  in  far  less  agitating  scenes,  had  our  still  Friend  shrunk 
'  forcibly  together  :  and  shrouded  up  his  tremours  and  flutterings, 
'  of  what  sort  soever,  in  a  safe  cover  of  Silence,  and  perhaps  of 
'  seeming  Stolidity.  How  was  it,  then,  that  here,  when  trembling 
'  to  the  core  of  his  heart,  he  did  not  sink  into  swoons,  but  rose 
'  into  strength,  into  fearlessness  and  clearness  1  It  was  his  guid- 
'  ing  Genius  [Damon)  that  inspired  him  :  he  must  go  forth  and 
'  meet  his  Destiny.  Shew  thyself  now,  whispered  it,  or  be  for- 
'  ever  hid.      Thus  sometimes  it  is  even  when  your  anxiety  becomes 

•  transcendental,  that  the  soul  first  feels  herself  able  to  transcend 

•  it :   that  she  rises  above  it.  in  fiery  victory  :  and.  borne  on  new- 

•  found  wings  of  victory,  moves  so  calmly,  even  because  so  rapidly, 
:  so  irresistibly.  Always  must  the  Wanderer  remember,  with  a 
:  certain  satisfaction  and  surprise,  how  in  this  case  he  sat  not 
\  silent,  but  struck  adroitly  into  the  stream  of  conversation  ; 
\  which  thenceforth,  to  speak  with  an  apparent  not  a  real  vanity, 
1  he  may  say  that  he  continued  to  lead.  Surely,  in  those  hours, 
\  a  certain  inspiration  was  imparted  him,  such  inspiration  as  is 
\  still  possible  in  our  late  era.  The  self-secluded  unfolds  himself 
'  in  noble  thoughts,  in  free,  glowing  words  ;  his  soul  is  as  one  sea 
\  of  light,  the  peculiar  home  of  Truth  and  Intellect ;  wherein 
;  also  Fantasy  bodies  forth  form  after  form,  radiant  with  all  pris- 
{  matic  hues.' 

It  appears,  in  this  otherwise  so  happy  meeting,  there  talked 
one  '  Philistine  ;'  who  even  now,  to  the  general  weariness,  was 
dominantly  pouring  forth  Philistinism  [PhilistriouicUen)  ;  little 
witting  what  hero  was  here  entering  to  demolish  him !  We  omit 
the  series  of  Socratic,  or  rather  Diogenic  utterances,  not  unhappy 
in  their  way,  whereby  the  monster,  '  persuaded  into  silence,' 
seems  soon  after  to  have  withdrawn  for  the  night.     '  Of  which 


112  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 

'  dialectic  marauder,'  writes  our  hero,  '  the  discomfiture  was  visibly 
1  felt  as  a  benefit  by  most :  but  what  were  all  applauses  to  the 
'  glad  smile,  threatening  every  moment  to  become  a  laugh,  where- 
'  with  Blumine  herself  repaid  the  victor  ?  He  ventured  to 
'  address  her,  she  answered  with  attention  :  nay,  what  if  there 
'  were  a  slight  tremour  in  that  silver  voice  ;  what  if  the  red  glow 
'  of  evening  were  hiding  a  transient  blush  ! 

1  The  conversation  took  a  higher  tone,  one  fine  thought  called 
'  forth  another :  it  was  one  of  those  rare  seasons,  when  the  soul 
'  expands  with  full  freedom,  and  man  feels  himself  brought  near 
'to  man.  Gaily  in  light,  graceful  abandonment,  the  friendly 
'  talk  played  round  that  circle ;  for  the  burden  was  rolled  from 
'  every  heart ;  the  barriers  of  Ceremony,  which  are  indeed  the 
1  laws  of  polite  living,  had  melted  as  into  vapour  ;  and  the  poor 
'  claims  of  Me  and  Thee,  no  longer  parted  by  rigid  fences,  now 
'  flowed  softly  into  one  another ;  and  Life  lay  all  harmonious, 
1  many-tinted,  like  some  fair  royal  champaign,  the  sovereign  and 
1  owner  of  which  were  Love  only.  Such  music  springs  from  kind 
'  hearts,  in  a  kind  environment  of  place  and  time.  And  yet  as 
'  the  light  grew  more  aerial  on  the  mountain-tops,  and  the  shadows 
'  fell  longer  over  the  valley,  some  faint  tone  of  sadness  may  have 
1  breathed  through  the  heart ;  and,  in  whispers  more  or  less  au- 
'  dible,  reminded  every  one  that  as  this  bright  day  was  drawing  to- 
'  wards  its  close,  so  likewise  must  the  Day  of  Man's  Existence 
1  decline  into  dust  and  darkness ;  and  with  all  its  sick  toilings, 
'and  joyful  and  mournful  noises,  sink  in  the  still  Eternity. 

'  To  our  Friend  the  hours  seemed  moments ;  holy  was  he  and 
'  happy :  the  words  from  those  sweetest  lips  came  over  him  like 
'  dew  on  thirsty  grass ;  all  better  feelings  in  his  soul  seemed  to 
'  whisper :  It  is  good  for  us  to  be  here.  At  parting  the  Blu- 
'  mine's  hand  was  in  his :  in  the  balmy  twilight,  with  the  kind 
'  stars  above  them,  he  spoke  something  of  meeting  again,  which 
'  was  not  contradicted  ;  he  pressed  gently  those  small  soft  fingers, 
:  and  it  seemed  as  if  they  were  not  hastily,  not  angrily  withdrawn.' 

Poor  Teufelsdrockh !  it  is  clear  to  demonstration  thou  art 
sniit  :  the  Queen  of  Hearts  would  see  a  'man  of  genius'  also  sigh 
for  her  ;  and  there,  by  art  magic,  in  that  preternatural  hour,  has 
she  bound  and  spell-bound  thee.     '  Love  is  not  altogether  a  Pe- 


ROMANCE.  113 


lirium,'  says  lie  elsewhere ,  '  yet  has  it  many  points  in  common 
therewith.     I  call  it  rather  a  discerning  of  the  Infinite  in  the 


-.w 


;  Finite,  of  the  Idea  made  Real ;  which  discerning  again  may  be 
'  ertFer  true  or  false,  either  seraphic  or  demoniac,  Inspiration  or 
'•  Insanity.  But  in  the  former  case  too,  as  in  common  Madness, 
{ it  is  Fantasy  that  superadds  itself  to  sight ;  on  the  so  petty  do- 
'niain  of  the  Actual  plants  its  Archimedes-lever,  whereby  to 
'  move  at  will  the  infinite  Spiritual.  Fantasy  I  might  call  the 
i  true  Heaven-gate  and  Hell-gate  of  man :  his  sensuous  life  is  but 
'  the  small  temporary  stage  (Ze lib uh?ie)  vthereon  thick-streaming 
'  influences  from  both  these  far  yet  near  regions  meet  visibly, 
'  and  act  tragedy  and  melodrama.  Sense  can  support  herself 
'handsomely,  in  most  countries,  for  some  eighteenpence  a  day; 
'  but  for  Fantasy  planets  and  solar-systems  will  not  suffice.  Wit- 
'  ness  your  Pyrrhus  conquering  the  world,  yet  drinking  no  better 
'red  wine  than  he  had  before.5     Alas!  witness  also  your  Dio- 

*  genes,  flame-clad,  scaling  the  upper  Heaven,  and  verging  towards 
'  Insanity,  for  prize  of  a  high-souled  Brunette,'  as  if  the  Earth 
held  but  one  and  not  several  of  these  ! 

He  says  that,  in  Town,  they  met  again :  '  day  after  day,  like 
|  his  heart's  sun,  the  blooming  Blumine  shone  on  him.  Ah !  a 
'  little  while  ago,  and  he  was  yet  in  all  darkness :  him  what 
c  Graceful  (Holde)  would  ever  love  1  Disbelieving  all  things^  tha 
1  poor  youth  had  never  learned  to ,  believe^ in^himself.  "With- 
\  drawn  in  proud  timidity,  within  his  own  fastnesses :  solitary 
'•  from  men,  yet  baited  by  night-spectres  enough,  he  saw  himself, 
'  with  a  sad  indignation,  constrained  to  renounce  the  fairest  hopes 
j  of  existence.    And  now,  0  now !    "  She  looks  on  thee,"  cried  he  : 

*  "  she  the  fairest,  noblest ;  do  not  her  dark  eyes  tell  thee,  thou 
\ art  not  despised  ?  The  Heaven's-Messenger  !  All  Heaven's 
'blessings  be  hers!"  Thus  did  soft  melodies  flow  through  his 
{ heart ;  tones  of  an  infinite  gratitude  ;  sweetest  intimations  that 

*  he  also  was  a  man,  that  for  him  also  unutterable  joys  had  been  | 
t-provided. 

'  In  free  speech,  earnest  or  gay,  amid  lambent  glances,  laugh- 
1  ter,  tears,  and  often  with  the  inarticulate  mystic  speech  of  Music ; 
'  such  was  the  element  they  now  lived  in  ;  in  such  a  many-tinted, 
'radiant  Aurora,  and  by  this  fairest  of  Orient  Light-bringers 


114  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

1  must  our  Friend  be  blandished,  and  the  new  Apocalypse  of  Na- 
c  ture  unrolled  to  him.  Fairest  Blumine !  And.  even  as  a  Star, 
1  all  Fire  and  humid  Softness,  a  very  Light-ray  incarnate  !  Was  i 
c  there  so  much  as  a  fault,  a  "  caprice,"  he  could  have  dispensed  '■ 
'with?  Was  she  not  to  him  in  very  deed  a  morning-Star;  did  j 
1  not  her  presence  bring  with  it  airs  from  Heaven  ?  As  from  j 
'  iEolean  Harps  in  the  breath  of  dawn,  as  from  the  Memnon's  P 
1  Statue  struck  by  the  rosy  finger  of  Aurora,  unearthly  music  was  < 
'  around  him,  and  lapped  him  into  untried  balmy  Rest.  Pale  ' 
'  Doubt  fled  away  to  the  distance ;  Life  bloomed  up  with  happi-  ' 
'  ness  and  hope.  The  Past,  then,  was  all  a  haggard  dream  ;  he  i 
*  had  been  in  the  Garden  of  Eden,  then,  and  could  not  discern  it ! 
c  But  lo  now !  the  black  walls  of  his  prison  melt  away  ;  the  cap-  } 
c  tive  is  alive,  is  free.  If  he  loved  his  Disenchantress  ?  Ach  i 
'  Gott !  His  whole  heart  and  soul  and  life  were  hers,  but  never  I 
1  had  he  named  it  Love :  existence  was  all  a  Feeling,  not  yet  I 
1  shaped  into  a  Thought,' 

Nevertheless,  into  a  Thought,  nay  into  an  Action,  it  must  be  • 
shaped ;  for  neither  Disenchanter  nor  Disenchantress,  mere  ! 
'  Children  of  Time,'  can  abide  by  feeling  alone.  The  Professor 
knows  not,  to  this  day,  '  how  in  her  soft,  fervid  bosom,  the  Lovely 
'  found  determination,  even  on  best  of  Necessity,  to  cut  asunder 
1  these  so  blissful  bounds.'  He  even  appears  surprised  at  the 
'  Duenna  Cousin,'  whoever  she  may  have  been,  '  in  whose  meagre, 
i  hunger-bitten  philosophy,  the  religion  of  young  hearts  was,  from 
1  the  first,  faintly  approved  of  We,  even  at  such  distance,  can  ! 
explain  it  without  nirnmiancy.  Let  the  Philosopher  answer  this 
one  question  :  What  figure,  at  that  period,  was  a  Mrs.  leufels- 
drockh  likely  to  make  in  polished  society?  Could  she  have 
driven  so  much  as  a  brass-bound  Big,  or  eyen  a  simple  iron- 
spring  one?  Thou  foolish  'absolved  Auscultatory  before  whom 
lies  no  prospect  ofjca.pjtal,  will  any  yet  known  'religion  of  young 
hearts1  keep  the  human  kitchen  warm?  Pshaw!  thy  divine 
1  Blumine,  when  she  '  resigned  herself  to  wed  some  richer,'  shews 
more  philosophy,  though  but  '  a  woman  of  genius."  than  thou,  a 
pretended  man. 

Our  readers  have  witnessed  the  origin  of  this  Love-mania,  and 
witli  what  royal  splendour  it  waxes,  and  rises.     Let  no  one  ask  us 


ROMANCE.  115 


to  unfold  the  glories  of  its  dominant  state  ;  much  less  the  hor- 
rors of  its  almost  instantaneous  dissolution.  How  from  such  in- 
organic masses,  henceforth  madder  than  ever,  as  lie  in  these  Bags, 
can  even  fragments  of  a  living  delineation  be  organised  ?  Be- 
sides, of  what  profit  were  it  %  We  view  with  a  lively  pleasure,  the 
gay  silk  Montgolfier  start  from  the  ground,  and  shoot  upwards, 
cleaving  the  liquid  deeps,  till  it  dwindle  to  a  luminous  star :  but 
what  is  there  to  look  longer  on,  when  once,  by  natural  elasticity? 
or  accident  of  fire,  it  has  exploded  1  A  hapless  air-navigator, 
plunging,  amid  torn  parachutes,  sand-bags,  and  confused  wreck, 
fast  enough  into  the  jaws  of  the  Devil !  Suffice  it  to  know  that 
Teufelsdrockh  rose  into  the  highest  regions  of  the  Empyrean,  by 
a  natural  parabolic  track,  and  returned  thence  in  a  quick  perpen- 
dicular one.  For  the  rest,  let  any  feeling  reader,  who  has  been 
unhappy  enough  to  do  the  like,  paint  it  out  for  himself:  consid- 
ering only  that  if  he,  for  his  perhaps  comparatively  insignificant 
mistress,  underwent  such  agonies  and  frenzies,  what  must  Teufels- 
drockh's  have  been,  with  a  fire-heart,  and  for  a  nonpareil  Blumine ! 
We  glance  merely  at  the  final  scene  : 

■j '  One  morning,  he  found  his  Morning-star  all  dimmed  and 
'  dusky-red  ;  the  fair  creature  was  silent,  absent,  she  seemed  to 
I  have  been  weeping.  Alas,  no  longer  a  Morning-star,  but  a  troub- 
I  lous  skyey  Portent,  announcing  that  the  Doomsday  had  dawned ! 
'  She  said,  in  a  tremulous  voice,  They  were  to  meet  no  more.' 
The  thunderstruck  Air-sailor  is  not  wanting  to  himself  in  this 
dread  hour:  but  what  avails  it?  We  omit  the  passionate  expos- 
tulations, entreaties,  indignations,  since  all  was  vain,  and  not  even 
an  explanation  was  conceded  him  ;  and  hasten  to  the  catastrophe. 
I "  Farewell,  then,  Madam  !"  said  he,  not  without  sternness,  for  his 
1  stung  pride  helped  him.  She  put  her  hand  in  his,  she  looked  in 
'  his  face,  tears  started  to  her  eyes  :  in  wild  audacity  he  clasped 
'  her  to  his  bosom  ;  their  lips  were  joined,  their  two  souls,  like  two 
1  dew-drops,  rushed  into  one, — for  the  first  time,  and  for  the  last !' 
Thus  was  Teufelsdrockh  made  immortal  by  a  kiss.  And  then  ? 
Why,  then — '  thick  curtains  of  Night  rushed  over  his  soul,  as  rose 
'  the  immeasurable  Crash  of  Doom  ;  and  through  the  ruins  as  of  a 
'  shivered  Universe  was  he  falling,  falling,  towards  the  Abyss.' 


116  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


\ 


T 


CHAPTER    VI 


SORROWS    OF    TEUFELSDROCKH. 


We  have  long  felt  that,  with  a  man  like  our  Professor,  matters  , 
must  often  be  expected  to  take  a  course  of  their  own ;  that  in  so  ,' 
multiplex,  intricate  a  nature,  there  might  be  channels,  both  for  [ 
admitting  and  emitting,  such  as  the  Psychologist  had  seldom  i 
noted  :  in  short,  that  on  no  grand  occasion  and  convulsion,  neither  ' 
in  the  joy-storm  nor  in  the  woe-storm,  could  you  predict  his  de-  | 
meanour. 

To  our  less  philosophical  readers,  for  example,  it  is  now  clear  ! 
that  the  so  passionate   Teufelsdrockh,  precipitated   through  '  a  il 
shivered  Universe'  in  this  extraordinary  way,  has  only  one  of  three 
things  which  he  can  next  do:  Establish  himself  in  Bedlam:  begij 
writing  Satanic  Poetry  :  or  blow  out  his  brains.     In  the  progress  • 
towards  any  of  which  consummations,  do  not  such  readers  antici-  - 
pate  extravagance  enough ;  breast-beating,  brow-beating  (against 
walls),  lion-bellowings  of  blasphemy   and   the   like,   stampings,  . 
smitings,  breakages  of  furniture,  if  not  arson  itself? 

Nowise  so  does  Teufelsdrockh  deport  him.  He  quietly  lifts  his 
Pilgerstab  (Pilgrim-staff),  ' old  business  being  soon  wound  up;' 
and  begins  a  perambulation  and  circumambulation  of  the  terra- 
queous globe !  Curious  it  is,  indeed,  how  with  such  vivacity  of 
conception,  such  intensity  of  feeling ;  above  all,  with  those  uncon- 
scionable habits  of  Exaggeration  in  speech,  he  combines  that  won- 
derful stillness  of  his,  that  stoicism  in  external  procedure.  Thus, 
if  his  sudden  bereavement,  in  this  matter  of  the  Flower-goddess,  I 
is  talked  of  as  a  real  Doomsday  and  Dissolution  of  Nature,  in 
which  light  doubtless  it  partly  appeared  to  himself,  his  own  nature 
is  nowise  dissolved  thereby;  but  rather  is  compressed  closer. 
For  once,  as  we  might  say,  a  Blumine  by  magic  appliances  has 
unlocked  that  shut  heart  of  his,  and  its  hidden  tilings  rush  out 


SORROWS   OF   TEUFELSDROCKH.  117 

tumultuous,  boundless,  like  genii  enfranchised  from  their  glass 
phial :  but  no  sooner  are  your  magic  appliances  withdrawn,  than 
the  strange  casket  of  a  heart  springs-to  again  ;  and  perhaps  there 
is  now  no  key  extant  that  will  open  it :  for  a  Teufelsdrockh,  as  we 
remarked,  will  not  love  a  second  time.  Singular  Diogenes !  No 
sooner  has  that  heart-rending  occurrence  fairly  taken  place,  than 
he  affects  to  regard  it  as  a  thing  natural,  of  which  there  is  nothing 
more  to  be  said.  '  One  highest  hope,  seemingly  legible  in  the 
1  eyes  of  an  Angel,  had  recalled  him  as  out  of  Death-shadows  into 
{  celestial  life  :  but  a  gleam  of  Tophet  passed  over  the  face  of  his 
1  Angel ;  he  was  rapt  away  in  whirlwinds,  and  heard  the  laughter 
'  of  Demons.  It  was  a  Calenture,'  adds  he,  •  whereby  the  Youth 
'  saw  green  Paradise-groves  in  the  waste  Ocean-waters :  a  lying 
'  vision,  yet  not  wholly  a  lie,  for  he  saw  it.'  But  what  things 
soever  passed  in  him,  when  he  ceased  to  see  it ;  what  ragings  and 
despairings  soever  Teufelsdrockh's  soul  was  the  scene  of,  he  has 
the  goodness  to  conceal  under  a  quite  opaque  cover  of  Silence. 
We  know  it  well ;  the  first  mad  paroxysm  past,  our  brave  Gneschen 
collected  his  dismembered  philosophies,  and  buttoned  himself  'nr 
together  ;  he  was  meek,  silent,  or  spoke  of  the  weather,  and  the 
Journals  :  only  by  a  transient  knitting  of  those  shaggy  brows,  by 
some  deep  flash  of  those  eyes,  glancing  one  knew  not  whether 
with  tear-dew  or  with  fierce  fire, — might  you  have  guessed  what  a 
Gehenna  was  within  ;  that  a  whole  Satanic  School  were  spouting, 
though  inaudibly,  there.  To  consume  your  own  choler,  as  some 
chimneys  consume  their  own  smoke  ;  to  keep  a  whole  Satanic 
School  spouting,  if  it  must  spout,  inaudibly,  is  a  negative  yet  no 
slight  virtue,  nor  one  of  the  commonest  in  these  times. 

Nevertheless,  we  will  not  take  upon  us  to  say,  that  in  the 
strange  measure  he  fell  upon,  there  was  not  a  touch  of  latent 
Insanity ;  whereof  indeed  the  actual  condition  of  these  Documents 
in  Capricomus  and  Aquarius  is  no  bad  emblem.  His  so  unlimited 
Wanderings,  toilsome  enough,  are  whliou^a£sign^dj3r__perJiaps 
.assignable  aim  :  internal  Unrest  seems  his  sole  guidance :  he  wan- 
ders, wanders,  as  if  that  curse  of  the  Prophet  had  fallen  on  him, 
and  he  were  'made  like  unto  a  wheel.'  Doubtless,  too,  the  cha- 
otic nature  of  these  Paperbags  aggravates  our  obscurity.  Quite 
without  note  of  preparation,  for  example,  we  come  upon  the  fol- 


' 


US  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 

lowing  slip :  '  A  peculiar  feeling  it  is  that  will  rise  in  the  Travel* 
i  ler,  when  turning  some  hill-range  in  his  desert  road,  he  descries 
'  lying  far  below,  embosomed  among  its  groves  and  green  natural1 
'  bulwarks,  and  all  diminished  to  a  toybox.  the  fair  Town,  where 
1  so  many  souls,  as  it  were  seen  and  yet  unseen,  are  driving  their 
'  multifarious  traffic.     Its  white  steeple  is  then  truly  a  starward-  •' 

•  pointing  finger ;  the  canopy  of  blue  smoke  seems  like  a  sort  of  ■ 
'  Life-breath  :^for  always,  of  its  own  unity,  the  soul  gives  unity  to  ' 
'  whatso  it  looks  on  with  love ;  thus  does  the  little  Dwelling-place 

1  of  men,  in  itself  a  congeries  of  houses  and  huts,  become  for  us  an  | 
4  individual,  almost  a  person.     But  what  thousand  other  thoughts  ? 
'  unite  thereto,  if  the  place  has  to  ourselves  been  the  arena  of  joy- ; 
1  ous  or  mournful  experiences  ;  if  perhaps  the  cradle  we  were  I 
'  rocked  in  still  stands  there,  if  our  Loving  ones  still  dwell  there, 
'if  our  Buried  ones  there  slumber!'     Does  Tcufelsdrockh,  as  the  j 
wounded  eagle  is  said  to  make  for  its  own  eyrie,  and  indeed  mili-  ' 
tary  deserters,  and  all  hunted  outcast  creatures,  turn  as  if  by 
instinct  in   the  direction  of  their  birth-land, — fly  first,  in  this  • 
extremity,  towards  his  native  Entepfuhl;  but  reflecting  that  there 
no  help  awaits  him,  take  but  one  wistful  look  from  the  distance, 
and  then  wend  elsewhither  ? 

Little  happier  seems  to  be  his  next  flight :  into  the  wilds  of 
Nature  ;  as  if  in  her  mother-bosom  he  would  seek  healing.     So  at 
least  we  incline  to  interpret  the  following  Notice,  separated  from  I 
the   former   by  some   considerable   space,  wherein,  however,  is  • 
nothing  note-worthy : 

'  Mountains  were  not  new  to  him  ;  but  rarely  are  Mountains 
c  seen  in  such  combined  majesty  and  grace  as  here.  The  rocks 
i  are  of  that  sort  called  Primitive  by  the  mineralogists,  which 
'always  arrange  themselves  in  masses  of  a  rugged,  gigantic  cha 

•  raeter:  which  ruggedness,  however,  is  here  tempered  by  a  singm 
■  lar  airiness  of  form,  and  softness  of  environment :    in  a   climate 

favourable   to   vegetation,  the   gray   cliff,    itself  covered    with 

•  lichens,  shoots  up  through  a  garment  of  foliage  or  verdure:  and 
-  white,  bright  cottages,  tree-shaded,  cluster  round  the  everlasting 
'granite.     In  fine  vicissitude,  Beauty  alternates  with  Grandeur; 

von  ride,  through  Stony  hollows,  along  strait  passes,  traversed  by 
'  torrents,  overhung  by  high  walls  of  rock  1  now  winding  amid 


SORROWS   OF   TEUFELSDROCKH.  119 

'  broken  shaggy  chasnis,  and  huge  fragments ;  now  suddenly 
'  emerging  into  some  emerald  valley,  where  the  streamlet  collects 
-  itself  into  a  Lake,  and  man  has  again  found  a  fair  dwelling,  and 
'it  seems  as  if  Peace  had  established  herself  in  the  bosom  of 
1  Strength. 

'  To  Peace,  however,  in  this  vortex  of  existence,  can  the  Son 
1  of  Time  not  pretend  :  still  less  if  some  Spectre  haunt  him  from 
'  the  Past ;  and  the  Future  is  wholly  a  Stygian  Darkness,  spectre- 
|  bearing.  Reasonably  might  the  Wanderer  exclaim  to  himself : 
1  Are  not  the  gates  of  this  world's  Happiness  inexorably  shut 
\  against  thee  ;  hast  thou  a  hope  that  is  not  mad  ?  Nevertheless, 
'  one  may  still  murmur  audibly,  or  in  the  original  Greek  if  that 
'  suit  better :  "  Whoso  can  look  on  Death  will  start  at  no 
j  shadows." 

1  From  such  meditations  is  the  Wanderer's  attention  called  out- 
1  wards ;  for  now  the  Valley  closes  in  abruptly,  intersected  by  a 
'  huge  mountain  mass,  the  stony  waterworn  ascent  of  which  is  V 
1  not  to  be  accomplished  on  horseback.  Arrived  aloft,  he  finds 
'himself  again  lifted  into  the  evening  sunset  light;  and  cannot 
'  but  pause,  and  gaze  round  him,  some  moments  there.  An  np- 
'  land  irregular  expanse  of  wold,  where  valleys  in  complex  branch- 
'ings  are  suddenly  or  slowly  arranging  their  descent  towards 
1  every  quarter  of  the  sky.  The  mountain-ranges  are  beneath 
1  your  feet,  and  folded  together :  only  the  loftier  summits  look 
'  down  here  and  there  as  on  a  second  plain  ;  lakes  also  lie  clear 
1  and  earnest  in  their  solitude.  Ncrtrace  of  man  now  visible  ;  un- 
1  less  indeed  it  were  he  who  fashioneoTKaOittie  visible  link  of 
'  Highway,  here,  as  would  seem,  scaling  the  inaccessible,  to  unite 
'  Province  with  Province.  But  sunwards,  lo  you !  how  it  towers 
'  sheer  up,  a  world  of  Mountains,  the  diadem  and  centre  of  the 
'  mountain  region  !  A  hundred  and  a  hundred  savage  peaks,  in 
'  the  last  light  of  Day ;  all  glowing,  of  gold  and  amethyst,  like 
'  giant  spirits  of  the  wilderness ;  there  in  their  silence,  in  their 
'  solitude,  even  as  on  the  night  when  Noah's  Deluge  first  dried  ! 
'  Beautiful,  nay  solemn,  was  the  sudden  aspect  to  our  Wanderer. 
'He  gazed  over  those  stupendous  masses  with  wonder,  almost         \va 

■  with  longing  desire  ;   n^verjbiUjhi.s,  UguxJiad  he  known  Nature,.  ^ 

■  that  she  was  One.  that  she  was  his  Mother  and  divine.     And  as 


'■) 


120  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

'the  ruddy  glow  was  fading  into  clearness  in  the  sky,  and  tin 
'  Sun  had  now  departed,  a  murmur  of  Eternity  and  Immensity;, 
'  of  Death  and  of  Life,  stole  through  his  soul ;  and  he  felt  as  if 
'  Death  and  Life  were  one,  as  if  the  Earth  were  not  dead,  as  if  t 
'  the  Spirit  of  the  Earth  had  its  throne  in  that  splendour,  and  hi* 
(  own  spirit  were  therewith  holding  communion. 

'  The  spell  was  broken  by  a  sound  of  carriage-wheels.  Emerg-J 
'■  ing  from  the  hidden  Northward,  to  sink  soon  into  the  hidden;, 
'  Southward,  came  a  gay  barouche-and-four :  it  was  open ;  s 
'  vants  and  postilions  wore  wedding-favours :  that  happy  pair. 
'  then,  had  found  each  other,  it  was  their  marriage  evening !  Few. 
'  moments  brought  them  near  :  Du  Himmel !     It  was  Herr  Tow-t 

'good  and Blumine !     With  slight  unrecognising  saluta-j 

'  tion  they  passed  me ;  plunged  down  amid  the  neighbouring  | 
'  thickets,  onwards,  to  Heaven,  and  to  England ;  and  I,  in  my , 
'friend  Eichter's  words,  1  remained  alo?ie,  behind  them,  with  the 
'  Night: 

Were  it  not  cruel  in  these  circumstances,  here  might  be  the«, 
place  to  insert  an  observation,  gleaned  long  ago  from  the  great : 
Clothes-  Voluvie,  where  it  stands  with  quite  other  intent :  '  Some 

I'  time  before  Small-pox  was  extirpated,'  says  the  Professor,  •  there 
^came  a  new  malady  of  the  spiritual  sort  on  Europe  :  I  mean  the 
'  epidemic,  now  endemical,  of  Yi^rklUiiiiig.  Poets  of  old  date, . 
'  being  privileged  with  Senses,  had  also  enjoyed  external  Nature  ; 
'but  chiefly  as  we  enjoy  the  crystal  cup  which  holds  good  or  bad 
1  liquor  for  us ;  that  is  to  say,  in  silence,  or  with  slight  incidental !: 
'  commentary :  never,  as  I  compute,  till  after  the  Sorrows  of 
c  M'er/er,  was  there  man  found  who  would  say:  Come  let  us  make 
'  a  Description  !  Having  drunk  the  liquor,  come  let  as  eat  the 
'  glass  !  Of  which  endemic  the  Jenner  is  unhappily  still  to  seek.'- 
Too  true ! 

We  reckon  it  more  important  to  remark  that  the  Profefi 
Wanderings,  so  far  as  his  stoical  and  cynical  envelopment  admits 
us  to  char  insight,  here  first  take  their  permanent  character, 
fatuous  or  not.  That  Basilisk-glance  of  the  Barouche  -ami-four 
serins  to  have  withered  up  what  little  remnant  of  a  purpose  may 
have  still  lurked  in  him:  Life  has  become  wholly  a  dark  laby- 
rinth ;  wherein,  through  long  years,  our  Friend,  flying  from  spec- 


SORROWS   OF   TEUFELSDROCKH.  121 

tres,  hasjho  stumble  about  at  random,  and  naturally  with  more 
haste  than  progress. 

Foolish  were  it  in  us  to  attempt  following  him,  even  from  afar, 
in  this  extraordinary  world-pilgrimage  of  his  ;  the  simplest  record 
of  which,  were  clear  record  possible,  would  fill  volumes.  Hope- 
less_isjbh< e_  obscurity.  iirispp.a.k,ap1ft  the,  ot fusion.  He  glides  from 
country  to  country,  from  condition  to  condition ;  vanishing  and 
re-appearing,  no  man  can  calculate  how  or  where.  Through  all 
quarters  of  the  world  he  wanders,  and  apparently  through  all 
circles  of  society.  If  in  any  scene,  perhaps  difficult  to  fix  geo- 
graphically, he  settles  for  a  time,  and  forms  connexions,  be  sure 
he  will  snap  them  abruptly  asunder.  Let  him  sink  out  of  sight 
as  Private  Scholar  (Privatisimider),  living  by  the  grace  of  God, 
in  some  European  capital,  you  may  next  find  him  as  Hadjee  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Mecca.  It  is  an  inexplicable  Phantasma- 
goria, capricious,  quick-changing ;  as  if  our  Traveller,  instead  of 
limbs  and  highways,  had  transported  himself  by  some  wishing 
carpet,  or  Fortunatus'  Hat.  The  whole,  too,  imparted  emblem- 
atically, in  dim  multifarious  tokens  (as  that  collection  of  Street- 
Advertisements)  ;  with  only  some  touch  of  direct  historical  notice 
sparingly  interspersed :  little  light-islets  in  the  world  of  haze ! 
So  that,  from  this  point,  the  Professor  is  more  of  an  enigma  than 
ever.  In  figurative  language,  we  might  say  he  becomes,  not  in- 
deed a  spirit,  yet  spiritualised,  vaporised.  Fact  unparalleled  in 
Biography :  The  river  of  his  History,  which  we  have  traced  from 
its  tiniest  fountains,  and  hoped  to  see  flow  onward,  with  increas- 
ing current,  into  the  ocean,  here  dashes  itself  over  that  terrific 
Lover's  Leap ;  and,  as  a  mad-foaming  cataract,  flies  wholly  into 
tumultuous  clouds  of  spray !  Low  down  it  indeed  collects  again 
into  pools  and  plashes ;  yet  only  at  a  great  distance,  and  with 
difficulty,  if  at  all,  into  a  general  stream.  To  cast  a  glance  into 
certain  of  those  pools  and  plashes,  and  trace  whither  they  run, 
must,  for  a  chapter  or  two,  form  the  limit  of  our  endeavour. 

For  which  end  doubtless  those  direct  historical  Notices,  where 
they  can  be  met  with,  are  the  best.  Nevertheless,  of  this  sort 
too  there  occurs  much,  which,  with  our  present  light,  it  were  ques- 
tionable to  emit.  Teufelsdrockh,  vibrating  everywhere  between 
the  highest  and  the  lowest  levels,  comes  into  contact  with  public 


122  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

History  itself.  For  example,  those  conversations  and  relations 
with  illustrious  Persons,  as  Sultan  Mahmoud,  the  Emperor  Na- 
poleon, and  others,  are  they  not  as  yet  rather  of  a  diplomatic 
character  than  of  a  biographic  ?  The  Editor,  appreciating  the 
sacredness  of  crowned  heads',  nay  perhaps  suspecting  the  possible 
trickeries  of  a  Clothes-Philosopher,  will  eschew  this  province  for 
the  present :  a  new  time  may  bring  new  insight  and  a  different 
duty. 

If  we  ask  now,  not  indeed  with  what  ulterior  Purpose,  for 
there  was  none,  yet  with  what  immediate  outlooks  :  at  all  events, 
in  what  mood  of  mind,  the  Professor  undertook  and  prosecuted 
this  world-pilgrimage, — the  answer  is  more  distinct  than  favour-  ' 
able.  '  A  nameless  JJnrest,'  says  he,  '  urged  me  forward ;  to 
'  which  the  outward  motion  was  some  momentary  lying  solace. 

•  Whither  should  I  go  ?  My  Loadstars  were  blotted  out ;  in  that  • 
'  canopy  of  grim  fire  shone  no  star.  Yet  forward  must  I ;  the  ' 
'  ground  burnt  under  me  ;  there  was  no  rest  for  the  sole  of  my 

■  foot.     Ijgas  alone^ jdkmg !     Ever  too  the  strong  inward  longing 
'  shaped  Fantasms  for  itself :  towards  these,  one  after  the  other, 
'  must  I  fruitlessly  wander.     A  feeling  I  had  that,  for  my  fever- 
i  thirst,  there  was  and  must  be  somewhere  a  healing  Fountain. 
i  To  many  fondly  imagined  Fountains,  the  Saints'  Wells  of  these 
'days,  did  I  pilgrim  juto  great  Men,  to  great  Cities,  to  great— 
i  Events :  but  found  there  no  healing\\   In  strange  countries,  as 
1  in  the  well-known  ;   in  savage  deserts,  as  in  the  press  of  corrupt  ' 
<  civilisation,  it  was  ever  the  same:  how  could  your  "Wanderer y 
1  escape  from — his  own  Shadow f\  Nevertheless   still   Forward! 
'  I  felt  as  if  in  great   haste;  to  do  I  saw  not  what.     From  the 
'  depths  of  my  own  heart,  it  called  to  me,  Forwards  !     The  winds 

•  and  the  streams,  and  all  Nature  sounded  to  me,  Forwards!  Ach 
'  Grott,  I  was  even,  once  for  all,  a  Son  of  Time.' 

From  which  is  it  not  clear  that  the  internal  Satanic  School  was 
still  active  enough?  He  says  elsewhere)  'The  Enchiridion  of 
i  Epidetus  I  had  ever  with  me.  often  as  my  sole  rational  com- 
'  pan  ion  ;  and  regret  to  mention  that   the  nourishment  it  yielded 

•  was  trifling.'  Thou  foolish  Teufelsdrockh !  How  could  it  else  I 
Hadst  thou  not  Greek  enough  to  understand  thus  much:    The  ^ 


SORROWS   OF   TEUFELSDROCKH.  123 

end  of  Man  is  an  Action,  and  no\  g  Thought^  though  it  were  the 
noblest? 


'  How  I  lived  V  writes  he  once  :  '  Friend,  hast  thou  considered 
{ the    "  rugged  ali-nourishing  Earth,"  as  Sophocles  well  names 
1  her  ;  how  she  feeds  the  sparrow  on  the  house-top,  much  more 
1  her  darling,  man  1     While  thou  stirrest  and  livest,  thou  hast  a 
'  probability  of  victual.     31  y  breakfast  of  tea  has  been  cooked  by 
'  a  Tartar  woman,  with  water  of  the  Amur,  who  wiped  her  earth- 
'  en-kettle  with  a  horse-tail.     I  have  roasted  wild  eggs  in  the  sand 
'  of  Sahara  ;  I  have  awakened  in  Paris  Estrapades  and  Vienna 
Malzleins.   with   no    prospect    of  breakfast   beyond    elemental 
liquid.     That  I  had  my  living  to  seek  saved  me  from  Dying, — 
'•  by  suicide.     In  our  busy  Europe,  is  there  not  an  everlasting  de- 
mand for  Intellect,  in  the  chemical,  mechanical,  political,  reli- 
gious, educational,  commercial  departments  %     In  Pagan  coun- 
'  tries,  cannot  one  write  Fetishes  1      Liyvnffl      Little   knowe> 
thou  what  alchemy  is  in  an  inventive  Soul  |_ how,  as  with  its  lit-  ) 
*  tie'nnger,  it  can  create  provision  enough  for  the  body  (of  a  Phi-  f 
I  losopher) ;  and  then,  as  with  both  hands,  create  quite  other  than  S 
c  provision  ;    namely,  spectres  to  torment  itself  withal.' 

Poor  Teufelsdrockh !  Flying  with  Hunger  always  parallel  to 
him  ;  and  a  whojlejnfexnal  Chas&  4n- his.  roar  ;  so  that  thftjnmn- 
tenance  of  Bungei;  is  comparatively  a  friend's  !  Thus  must  he, 
in  the  temper  of  ancient  Cain,  or  of  the  modern  Wandering  Jew, 
save  only  that  he  feels  himself  not  guilty  and  but  suffering  the 
pains  of  guilt, — wend  to  and  fro  with  aimless  speed.  Thus  must 
he,  over  the  whole  surface  of  the  Earth  (by  foot-prints),  write  his 
Sorrows  of  Teufelsdrockh  ;  even  as  the  great  Goethe,  in  passionate 
words,  had  to  write  his  Sorrows  of  Werter,  before  the  spirit  freed 
herself,  and  he  could  become  a  Man.  Vain  truly  is  the  hope  of 
your  swiftest  Runner  to  escape  '  from  his  own  Shadow !'  Never- 
theless, in  these  sick  days,  when  the  Born  of  Heaven  first  de- 
scries himself  (about  the  age  of  twenty)  in  a  world  such  as  ours, 
richer  than  usual  in  two  things,  in  Truths  grown  obsolete,  and 
Trades  grown  obsolete, — what  can  the  fool  think  but  that  it  is  all 
a  Den  of  Lies,  wherein  whoso  will  not  speak  Lies  and  act  Lies,| 
must  stand  idle  and  despair?  Whereby  it  happens  that,  for 
your  nobler  minds,  the  publishing  of  some  such  Work  of  Art,  in 


124  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


J  one  or  the  other  dialect,  becomes  almost  a  necessity.  For  what 
_  /  is  it  properly  but  an  Altercation  with  the  Devil,  before  you  begin 
J  honestly  Fighting  him  1  Your  Byron  publishes  his  Sorrows  of 
Lord  George,  in  verse  and  in  prose,  and  copiously  otherwise  : 
your  Bonaparte  represents  his  Sorrows  of  Napoleon  Opera,  in  an 
ail-too  stupendous  style  ;  with  music  of  cannon-volleys,  and  mur- 
der-shrieks of  a  world  ;  his  stage-lights  are  the  fires  of  Conflagra- 
tion ;  his  rhyme  and  recitative  are  the  tramp  of  embattled  Hosts 
and  the  sound  of  falling  Cities. — Happier  is  he  who,  like  our 
Clothes-Philosopher,  can  write  such  matter,  since  it  must  be  writ- 
ten, on  the  insensible  Earth,  with  his  shoe-soles  only ;  and  also 
survive  the  writing  thereof! 


THE  EVERLASTING   NO.  125 


CHAPTER    VII 


THE    EVERLASTING    NO. 


I 


Under  the  strange  nebulous  envelopment,  wherein  our  Pro- 
fessor has  now  shrouded  himself,  no  doubt  but  hisspiritual  na- 
ture is  nevertheless  progressiyA_jtn^^awkig :  for  how  can  the) 
'  Son  of  Time,'  in  any  case,  stand  still  ?  We  behold  him,  througbr 
those  dim  years,  in  a_^tajte_fif_jcrisisr^f  transition  :  his  mad  PilS 
grimings,  and  general  solution  into  aimless  Discontinuity,  what  is\ 
all  this  but  a  mad  Fermentation  ;  wherefrom,  the  fiercer  it  is,  the  I 
clearer  product  will  one  day  evolve  itself? 

Such  transitions  are  ever  full  of  pain j  thus  the  Eagle  when  he 
moults  is  sickly ;  and,  to  attain  his  new  beak,  must  harshly  dash 
off  the  old  one  upon  rocks.  What  Stoicism  soever  our  Wanderer, 
in  his  individual  acts  and  motions,  may  affect,  it  is  clear  that 
there  is  a  hot  fever  of  anarchy  and  misery  raving  within  ;  corus 
cations  of  which  flash  out :  as,  indeed,  how  could  there  be  other  7 
Have  we  not  seen  him  disappointed,  bemocked  of  Destiny,  throug 
long  years  ?  AlHhai  the  young  heart  might  desire,  and  pray  to 
has  been  denied  :  nay.  as  in  the  last  worst  instance,,  offered  andl 
then  snatched  agaj.  Ever  an  -.excellent  Passivity  ;'  but  of  use- 
ful., reasonable  Activity,  essential  to  the  former  as  Food  to  Hun- 
ger, nothing  granted  :  till  at  length,  in  this  wild  Pilgrimage,  he 
must  forcibly  seize  for  himself  an  Activity,  though  useless,  un- 
reasonable* Alas !  his  cup  of  bitterness,  which  had  been  filling 
drop  by  drop,  ever  since  that  first  i  ruddy  morning'  in  the  Hin- 
terschlag  Gymnasium,  was  at  the  very  lip ;  and  then  with  that 
poison-drop,  of  the  Towgood-and-Blumine  business,  it  runs  over, 
and  even  hisses  over  in  a  deluge  of  foam. 

He  himself  says  once,  with  more  justness  than   originality  : 

Olan   is,  properly  speaking,  based  upon  Hope,  lie  Las  no  other 

possession  but  Hope  ;  this  world  of  his  is  emphatically  the  Place 


126  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


of  Hope.'  What  then  was  our  Professor's  possession?  We  see 
him,  for  the  present,  quite  shut  out  from  Hope  ;  looking  not  into 
the  golden  orient,  but  vaguely  all  around  into  a  dim  copper  fir- 
mament, pregnant  with  earthquake  and  tornado. 

Alas,  shut  out  from  Hope,  in  a  deeper  sense  than  we  yet 
dream  of!  For  as  he  wanders  wearisomely  through  this  world, 
he  has  now  lost  all  tidings  of  another  and  higher.-  Full  of  reli- 
gion, or  at  least  of  religiosity,  as  our  Friend  has  since  exhibited 
himself,  he  hides  not  that  in  those  days,  he  was  wholly  irreligious  : 
/  Doubt  had  darkened  into  UjibeHe^Lsays  he  ;  '  shade  after  shade 
r  goes  grimly  over  your  soul,  till  you  have  the  fixed,  starless.  Tar- 
y  tarean  black.'  To  such  readers  as  have  reflected,  what  can  be 
called  reflecting,  on  man's  life,  and  happily  discovered,  in  con- 
tradiction to  much  Profit-and-Loss  Philosophy,  speculative  and 
practical,  that  Soul  is  not  synonymous  with  Stomach  :  who  under- 

ftand,  therefore,  in  our  Friend's  words,  '  that,  for  man's  well  be- 
ing, Faith  is  properly  the  one  thing  needful :  how.  with  it.  Mar- 

•  1 3  i b,  otherwise  weak,  can  cheerfully  endure  the  shame  and  the 
'cross;  and  without  it.  Wordlings  puke  up  their  sick  existence, 
'by  suicide  in  the  midst  of  luxury :'  to  such  it  will  be  clear  that, 
for  a  pure  moral  nature,  the  loss  of  his  religious  Belief  was  the 
loss  of  every  thing.  Unhappy  young  man!  All  wouuds,  the 
crush  of  long-continued  Destitution,  the  stab  of  false  Friendship, 
and  of  false  Lo\  e.  all  wounds  in  thy  so  genial  heart,  would  have 
healed  again,  had  not  its  life-warmth  been  withdrawn.  Well 
might  he  exclaim,  in  his  wild  way  :  '  Is  there  no  God,  then:  but 

£  at  best  an  absentee  God,  sitting  idle,  ever  since  the  first  Sab- 
"  'bath,  at  the  outside  of  his  Universe,  and  .swing  it  go?      Has  the 

•  word  Duty  no  meaning;   is  what  we  call  Duty  no  divine  Mes- 

i  and  <iui'le.  bul  a  false  earthly  Fantasm,  made  up  of  De- 

/' sire  and  Fear,  of  emanations  from  the  (fallows  and  from  Doc- 

L^tor  Graham's  Celestial-bed  .-     Happiness  of  an  approving  Con- 

-■ience!      Did  not   Paul  of  Tarsus,  whom   admiring  nun    have 

since  named  Saint,  feel  that  he  was  ••  the  chief  of  sinners  :"  and 

•  Nero  of  Rome,  jocund  in  spirit  [tjoohlgemuth)^  spend  much  of  his 
1  time  in  fiddling?  Foolish  Word-monger,  and  Motive-grinder, 
'who  in  thy  Logic-mill  hast  an  earthly  mechanism  for  the  God- 
1  like  itself,  and  wouldst  fain  grind  me  out  Virtue  from  the  In 


THE  EVERLASTING  NO.  127 


'  of  Pleasure, — I  tell  thee,  Nay  !  To  the  unregenerate  Prome- 
'  theus  Vinctus  of  a  man,  it  is  ever  the  bitterest  aggravation  of* 
'  his  wretchedness  that  he  is  conscious  of  Virtue,  that  he  feels 

*  himself  the  victim  not  of  suffering  only,  but  of  injustice.     What 

*  then  %  Is  the  heroic  inspiration  we  name  Virtue  but  some  Pas- 
'  sion  ;  some  bubble  of  the  blood,  bubbling  in  the  direction  others 

1  profit  by  ?     I  know  not :  only  this  I  know,  If  what  thpu  name^l-., 
'  Happiness  be  our  true  aim,  then  are  we  all  astray.     With  Stu- 
'  pfdity  and  sound  Digestion  man  may  front  much.     But  what, 
'  in  these  dull  unimaginative  days,  are  the  terrors  of  Conscience 
'  to  the  diseases  of  the  Liver  !     Not  on  Morality,  but  on  Cookery  v 
<  let  us  build  our  stronghold :  there  brandishing  our  fryingpan,  ) 
1  as  censer,  let  us  offer  sweet  incense  to  the  Devil,  and  live  at  ease  j 
'  on  the  fat  things  he  has  provided  for  his  Elect !' 

Thus  has  the  bewildered  Wanderer  to  stand,  as  so  many  havei 
done,  shouting  question  after  question  into  the  Sibyl-cave  of  Des- 
tiny, and  receive  no  Answer  but  an  Echo.  It  is  all  a  grim  Des- 
ert, this  once  fair  world  of  his  ;  wherein  is  heard  only  the  howl- 
ing of  wild  beasts,  or  the  shrieks  of  despairing,  hate-filled  men ; 
and  no  Pillar  of  Cloud  by  day,  and  no  Pillar  of  Fire  by  night, 
any  longer  guides  the  Pilgrim.  To  such  length  has  the  spirit  of 
Inquiry  carried  him.  '  But  what  boots  it  {was  thuts)V  cries  he  ; 
1  it  is  but  the  common  lot  in  this  era.  Not  having  come  to  spirit- 
1  ual  majority  prior  to  the  Steele  de  Louis  Quinze,  and  not  being 
'  born  purely  a  Loghead  (Du?nmkopf),  thou  hadst  no  other  out- 

*  look.     The  whole  world  is,  like  thee,  sold  to  Unbelief;  their  oldl 
j  Temples  of  the  Godhead,  which  for  long  have  not  been  rain- J  \ 
'  proof,  crumble  down  ;  and  men  ask  now :  Where  is  the  God- 
j  head  ;  our  eyes  never  saw  him  !' 

Pitiful  enough  were  it,  for  all  these*  wild  utterances,  to  call  our 
Diogenes  wicked.  Unprofitable  servants  as  we  all  are,  perhaps 
at  no  era  of  his  life  was  he  more  decisively  the  Servant  of  Good- 
ness, the  Servant  of  God,  than  even  now  when  doubting  God's 
existence.  '  One  circumstance  I  note,'  says  he  :  '  after  all  the 
'  nameless  woe  thatjjaquiry,  which  for  me,  what  it  is  not  always, 
'  was  genuine  Love  of  Truth,  had  wrought  me,  I  nevertheless  still 
'  loved  Truth,  and  would  bate  no  jot  of  my  allegiance  to  her. 

Truth  !"  I  cried,  "  though  the  Heavens  crush  me  for  following  / 

i 


.(  u 


'      128  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


+ 


'  her  :  no  Falsehood !  though  a  whole  celestial  Lubberland  were 
'  tbc  price  of  Apostacy."  In  conduct  it  was  the  same.  Had  a 
'  divine  Messenger  from  the  clouds,  or  miraculous  Handwriting 
'on  the  wall,  convincingly  proclaimed  to  me  This  thou  shall  do, 
'  with  what  passionate  readiness,  as  I  often  thought,  would  I  have 
'  done  it,  had  it  been  leaping  into  the  infernal  Fire !  Thus,  in 
'spite  of  all  Motive-grinders,  and  Mechanical  Profit-and-Loss 
'  Philosophies,  with  the  sick  ophthalmia  and  hallucination  they 
t  had  brought  on,  was  the  Infinite  nature  of  Duty  still  dimly 
'  present  to  me  :  living  without  God  in  the  world,  of  God's  light 
^  I  was  not  utterly  bereft ;  if  my  as  yet  sealed  eyes,  with  their  ' 

unspeakable  longing,  could  nowhere  see  Him,  nevertheless  in 

my  heart  He  was  present,  and  His  heaven-written  Law  still  I 

stood  legible  and  sacred  there.' 

Meanwhile,  under  all  these  tribulations,  and  temporal  and 
spiritual  destitutions,  what  must  the  Wanderer,  in  his  silent  soul, 
have  endured  !  '  The  painfullest  feeling,'  writes  he,  '  is  that  of 
'  your  own  Feebleness  ( Unkraft) ;  ever  as  the  English  Milton 
'  says,  to  be  weak  is  the  true  misery.  And  yet  of  your  Strength 
'there  is  and  can  be  no  clear  feeling. .  save  by  what  you  have 
'prospered  in,  by  what  you  have  done/ //Between  vague  wavering 
'  Capability  and  fixed  indubitable  Performance,  what  a  differ- 
'  ence  !  A  certain  inarticulate  Self-consciousness  dwells  dimly 
'in  us  ;  which  only  our  Works  can  render  articulate  and  de- 
'cisively  discernible.nl  Our  Works  are  the  mirror  wherein  the 
'  spirit  first  sees  its  natural  lineaments.  Hence,  too,  the  folly  of 
'  that  impossible  Precept,  Know  thyself;  till  it  be  translated  into 

this  partially  possible  one,  Know  what  thou  canst  work  at\\ 
'  But  for  me,  so  strangely  unprosperous  had  I  been,  the  net 
'result  of  my  Workings  amounted  as  yet  simplj  to — Nothing. 
1  How  then  could  I  believe  in  my  Strength,  when  there  was  as 
'yet  no  mirror  to  see  it  in  ?  Ever  did  this  agitating,  vet.  as  I 
'  now  perceive,  quite  frivolous  question,  remain  to  me  insoluble  : 
'  Hast  thou  a  certain  Faculty,  a  certain  Worth,  such  even  as  the 
'  most  have  not ;  or  art  thou  the  completest  Pullard  of  these 
;,  V  modern  times  ?  Alas  !  the  fearful  Unbelief  is  unbelief  in  your- 
t\  self  ;  and  how  could  I  believe  ?  Had  not  my  first,  last  Faith  in 
i  myself,  when  even  to  me  the  Heavens  seemed  laid  open,  and  I 


THE   EVERLASTING  NO.  129 

1  dared  to  love,  been  ail-too  cruelly  belied  1      The   speculative 
1  Mystery  of  Life  grew  ever  more  mysterious  to  mej__neither  in 
*  t]ie  practical  Mystery  had  I  made  the  slightest  progress,  but 
1  been  everywhere  buffeted,  foiled,  and  contemptuously  cast  out. 
A  feeble  unit  in  the  middle  of  a  threatening  Infinitude,  I  seemed  \ 
to  have  nothing  given  me  but  eyes,  whereby  to  discern  my  own. 
\  wretchedness.     Invisible  yet  impenetrable  walls,  as  of  Enchant- 
ment, divided  me  from  all  living :  was  there,  in  the  wide  world, 
any  true  bosom  I  could  press  trustfully  to  mine  ?      0  Heaven, 
]  No,  there  was  none  !     I  kept  a  lock  upon  my  lips  :  why  should 
'  I  speak  much  with  that  shifting  variety  of  so-called  Friends,  in 
'  whose  withered,  vain,  and  too  hungry  souls,  Friendship  was  but 
j  an  incredible  tradition  1     In  such  cases,  your  resource  is  to  talk 

I  little,  and  that  little  mostly  from  the  Newspapers.     Now  when 

II  look  back,  it  was  a  ^TajageJgflIa,t,ion ...  I  then  lived  in.  The 
1  men  and  women  around  me,  even  speaking  with  me,  were  but 
!  Figures  :  I  had,  practically,  forgotten  that  they  were  alive,  that 
'  they  were  not  merely  automatic.  In  midst  of  their  crowded 
I  streets,  and  assemblages,  I  walked  solitary  ;  and  (except  as  it 
f  was  my  own  heart,  not  another's,  that  I  kept  devouring)  savage 
j  also,  as  the  tiger  in  his  jungle.  Some  comfort  it  would  have 
1  been,  could  I.  like  a  Faust,  have  fancied  myself  tempted  and 
'  tormented  of  the  Devil ;  for  a  Hell,  as  I  imagine,  without  Life, 
1  though  only  diabolic  Life,  were  more  frightful :  but  in  our  age 
1  of  Downpulling  and  Disbelief,  the  very  Devil  has  been  pulled 
'down,  you  cannot  so  much  as  believe  in  a  Devil.  To  me  thej 
'  Universe  was  all  void  of  Life,  of  Purpose,  of  Volition,  even  of 

f  Hostility :  it  was  one  huge,  dead,  immeasurable  Steam-engine, 
'  rolling  on,  in  its  dead  indifference,  to  grind  me  limb  from  limb. 
'  0  the  vast,  gloomy,  solitary  Golgotha,  and  Mill  of  Death  !  "Why 
|  was  the  Living  banished  thither  companionless,  conscious  1 
\  Why  if  there  is  no  Devil ;  nay,  unless  the  Devil  is  your  God  V 

A  prey  incessantly  to  such  corrosions,  might  not,  moreover,  as 
the  worst  aggravation  to  them,  the  iron  constitution  even  of  a 
Teufelsdrockh  threaten  to  fail  ?  We  conjecture  that  he  has  known 
sickness  ;  and,  in  spite  of  his  locomotive  habits,  perhaps  sickness 
of  the  chronic  sort.  Hear  this,  for  example  :  '  How  beautiful  to 
[  die  of  broken-heart,  on  Paper !     Quite  another  thing  in  Prac- 


130  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

__ . . j 

'  tice  ;  every  window  of  your  Feeling,  even  of  your  Intellect,  as 
'  it  were,  begrimed  and  mud-bespattered,  so  that  no  pure  ray  canj 
'  enter  ;  a  whole  Drugshop  in  your  inwards  ;  the  foredone  soul 
'  drowning  slowly  in  quagmires  of  Disgust !' 

Putting  all  which  external  and  internal  miseries  together, 
may  we  not  find  in  the  following  sentences,  quite  in  our  Profes- 
'  sor's  still  vein,  significance  enough?  '  From  Suicide  a  certain 
'  after-shine  (Nachschein)  of  Christianity  withheld  me  :  perhaps 
'also  a  certain  indolence  of  character  ;  for,  was  not  that  a  remedy 
'  I  had  at  any  time  within  reach  1  Often,  however,  was  there  a 
'  question  present  to  me  :  Should  some  one  now,  at  the  turning 
'  of  that  corner,  blow  thee  suddenly  out  of  Space,  into  the  other 
'  World,  or  other  No-world,  by  pistol-shot, — how  were  it  ?  On 
'  which  ground,  too,  I  have  often,  in  sea-storms  and  sieged  cities 
'and  other  death-scenes,  exhibited  an  imperturbability,  which 
'  passed,  falsely  enough,  for  courage.' 

'  So  had  it  lasted,'  concludes  the  Wanderer,  '  so  had  it  lasted, 
'  as  in  bitter  protracted  Death-agony,  through  long  years  The 
I'  heart  within  me,  unvisited  by  any  heavenly  dewdrop,  was 
V  smouldering  in  sulphurous,  slow-consuming  fire.  Almost  since 
'  earliest  memory  I  had  shed  no  tear ;  or  once  only  when  I, 
'  murmuring  half-audibly,  recited  Faust's  Deathsong,  that  wild 
'  Sclig  dcr  den  er  im  Sieges-glanze  findct  (Happy  whom  he  finds  in 
'  Battle's  splendour),  and  thought  that  of  this  last  Friend  even  I 
'  was  not  forsaken,  that  destiny  itself  could  not  doom  me  not  to 
'  die.  Having  no  hope,  neither  had  I  any  definite  fear,  were  it 
'  of  Man  or  of  Devil :  nay,  I  often  felt  as  if  it  might  be  solacing, 
'  could  the  Arch-Devil  himself,  though  in  Tartarean  terrors,  but 
'  rise  to  me,  that  I  might  tell  him  a  little  of  my  mind.  And  yet, 
'  strangely  enough,  I  lived  in  a  continual  indefinite,  pining  fear ; 
'  tremulous,  pusillanimous,  apprehensive  of  I  knew  not  what :  it 
'  seemed  as  if  all  things  in  the  Heavens  above  and  the  Earth 
'  beneath  would  hurt  me  ;  as  if  the  Heavens  and  the  Earth  were 
'  but  boundless  jaws  of  a  devouring  monster,  wherein  I.  palpita- 
k  ting,  waited  to  be  devoured. 

f  'Full  of  such  humour,  and  perhaps  the  miscrablest  man  in  the 
'  whole  French  Capital  or  Suburbs,  was  I,  one  sultry  Dogday, 
4  after   much   perambulation,  toiling  along    the   dirty  little  Rue 


THE   EVERLASTING  NO.  131 

1  Saint-Thomas  de  VEnfer,  among  civic  rubbish  enough,  in  a  close 
(  atmosphere,  and  over  pavements  hot  as  Nebuchadnezzar's  Fur- 
'nace;  whereby  doubtless  my  spirits  were  little  cheered  ;  when, 
i  all  at  once,  there  rose  a  Thought  in  me,  and  I  asked  myself: 
1  u  What  art  thou  afrajoLpXi  Wherefore,  like  a  coward,  dost  thou 
'  for  ever  pip  and  whimper,  and  go  cowering  and  trembling  1 
1  Despicable  biped  !  what  is  the  simi-total  of  the  worst  that  lies 
'  before  thee  %  Death  ?  Well,  Death  ;  and  say  the  pangs  of 
j  Tophet  too,  and  all  that  the  Devil  and  Man  may,  will,  or  can  do 
'  against  thee !  Hast  thou  not  a  heart ;  canst  thou  not  suffer 
'  whatso  it  be  ;  and,  as  a  Child  of  Freedom,  though  outcast,  tram- 
j  pie  Tophet  itself  under  thy  feet,  while  it  consumes  thee  1  Let 
it  come,  then  :  I  will  meet  it  and  defy  it !"  And  as  I  so 
thought,  there  rushed  like  a  stream  of  fire  over  my  whole  soul ; 
'  and  I  shook  base  Fear  away  from  me  for  ever.  I  was  strong, 
of  unknown  strength  :  a  spirit,  almost  a  god.  Ever  from  that 
time,  the Jemper  of  my  misery  was  changed  :  not  Fear  or  whin- 
;^g_Sorrow  wasji,  but..Injdig»ati^ii  and  grim  fire-eyed  Defiance. 
Thus  had  the  Everlasting  No  (das  ewige  Nein)  pealed 
authoritatively  through  all  the  recesses  of  my  Being,  of  my  Me  ; 
*  and  then  was  it  that  my  whole  Me  stood  up,  in  native  God- 
J  created  majesty,  and  with  emphasis  recorded  its  Protest.  Such 
f  a  Protest,  the  most  important  transactr6Til^Llie^may  that  same 
f  Indignation  and  Defiance,  in  a  psychological  point  of  view,  be 
'fitly  called.  The  Everlasting  No  had  said:  "  Behold,  thou  art 
'fatherless,  outcast,  and  the  Universe  is  mine  (the  Devil's) ;"  to 
'  which  my  whole  Me  now  made  answer:  "  /  am  not  thine,  but 
'  Free,  and  forever  hate  thee  !" 

'  It  is  from  this  hour  that  I  incline  to  date  my  Spir^aLJiejs^ 
'bir_tb,  or  Baphometic  Fire-baptism;  perhaps  I  directly  there- 
'  upon  began  to  be  a  Man.'  a 


i 


132  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 


CENTRE    OF    INDIFFERENCE. 


Though,  after  this  'Baphonietic  Fire-baptism'  of  his,  our 
Wanderer  signifies  that  his  Unrest  was  but  increased  ;  as,  indeed, 
1  Indignation  and  Defiance,'  especially  against  things  in  general, 
arejiot  the  most  peaceable  inmates ;  yet  can  the  Psychologist 
surmise  that  it  was  no  longer  a  quite  hopeless  Unrest;  that 
henceforth  it  had  at  least  a  fixed  centre  to  revolve  round.  For 
the  fire-baptised  soul,  long  so  scathed  and  thunder-riven,  here 
feels  its  own  Freedom,  which  feeling  is  its  Baphometic  Baptism: 
the  citadel  of  its  whole  kingdom  it  has  thus  gained  by  assault, 
and  will  keep  inexpugnable  ;  outwards  from  which  the  remaining 
dominions,  not  indeed  without  hard  battling,  will  doubtless  by 
degrees  be  conquered  and  pacificated.  Under  another  figure,  we 
might  say,  if  in  that  great  moment,  in  the  Rue  Saint-Thomas  de 
I'Enfer,  the  old  inward  Satanic  School  was  not  yet  thrown  out  of 
doors,  it  received  peremptory  judicial  notice  to  quit ; — whereby, 
for  the  rest,  its  howl-chantings,  Ernulphus-cursings,  and  rebel- 
lious gnashing  of  teeth,  might,  in  the  mean  while,  become  only  the 
more  tumultuous,  and  difiicult  to  keep  secret. 

Accordingly,  if  we  scrutinize  these  Pilgrimings  well,  there  is 
perhaps  discernible  henceforth  a  certain  incipient  method  in  their 
madness.  Not  wholly  as  a  Spectre  does  Teufelsdrockh  now 
storm  through  the  world  ;  at  worst  as  a  spectre-fighting  Man, 
nay  who  will  one  day  be  a  Spectre-queller.  If  pilgrimiug  rest- 
lessly to  so  many  '  Saints'  Wells. ;  and  ever  without  quenching  of 
his  thirst,  he  nevertheless  finds  little  secular  wells,  whereby  from 
time  to  time  some  alleviation  is  ministered.  In  a  word,  he  is 
now,  if  not  ceasing,  yet  intermitting  to  'eat  his  own  heart;'  and 
clutches  round  him  outwardly  on  the  Nqt-me  for   wholcsomer 


CENTRE   OF   INDIFFERENCE.  133 

fooxL    Does  not  the  following  glimpse  exhibit  him  in  a  much 
more  natural  state  1 

1  Towns  also  and  Cities,  especially  the  ancient,  I  failed  not  to 
'look  upon  with  interest.  How  beautiful  to  see  thereby,  as 
'through  a  long  vista,  into  the  remote  Time  ;  to  have,  as  it  were, 
'  an  actual  section  of  almost  the  earliest  Past  brought  safe  into 
1  the  Present,  and  set  before  your  eyes  !  There,  in  that  old  City, 
'  was  a  live  ember  of  Culinary  Fire  put  down,  say  only  two  thou- 
'  sand  years  ago  ;  and  there,  burning  more  or  less  triumphantly, 
'  with  such  fuel  as  the  region  yielded,  it  has  burnt,  and  still 
'  burns,  and  thou  thyself  seest  the  very  smoke  thereof.  Ah !  and 
'  the  far  more  mysterious  live  ember  of  Vital  Fire  was  then  also 
'put  down  there  ;  and  still  miraculously  burns  and  spreads  ;  and 
'  the  smoke  and  ashes  thereof  (in  these  Judgment-Halls  audi 
'  Churchyards),  and  its  bellows-engines  (in  these  Churches),  thou]  t^ 
'  still  seest :  and  its  flame,  looking  out  from  every  kind  counte- 1  » 
'  nance,  and  every  hateful  one,  still  warms  thee  or  scorches  thee.j 

'Of  Man's  Activity  and  Attainment  the  chief  results  are 
'  aeriform,  'mystic^and  preserved  in  Tradition  only:  such  are  his 
'T'orms  of  Government,  with  the  Authority  they  rest  on;  his 
'  Customs,  or  Fashions  both  of  Cloth-Habits  and  of  Soul-habits ; 
'  much  more  his  collective  stock  of  Handicrafts,  the  whole  Faculty 
'  he  has  required  of  manipulating  Nature  :  all  these  things,  as 
'  indispensable  and  priceless  as  they  are,  cannot  in  any  way  be 
'  fixed  under  lock  and  key,  but  must  flit,  spirit-like,  on  impalpable 
'  vehicles,  from  Father  to  Son  :  if  you  demand  sight  of  them,  they 
'  are  nowhere  to  be  met  with.  Visible  Ploughmen  and  Hammer- 
'  men  there  have  been,  ever  from  Cain  and  Tubalcain  downwards  : 
'  but  where  does  your  accumulated  Agricultural,  Metallurgic,  and 
'  other  Manufacturing  Skill  lie  warehoused  ?  It  transmits 
'  itself  on  the  atmospheric  air,  on  the  sun's  rays  (by  Hearing  and 
'  by  Vision) :  it  is  a  thing  aeriform,  impalpable,  of  quite  spiritual 
'  sort.  In  like  manner,  ask  me  not,  Where  are  the  Laws  :  where 
'  is  the  Government  ?  In  vain  wilt  thou  go  to  Schonbrunn,  to 
'  Downing  Street,  to  the  Palais  Bourbon  :  thou  findest  nothing 
'  there,  but  brick  or  stone  houses,  and  some  bundles  of  Papers 
'  tied  with  tape.  Where  then  is  that  same  cunningly-devised 
'  almighty  Government  of  theirs  to  be  laid  hands  on  1     Every- 


A 


,34  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

I 

'  where,  yet  nowhere  :  seen  only  in  its  works,  this  too  is  a  thing  I 
aeriform,  invisible  ;  or  if  you  will,  mystic  and  miraculous.  So  ! 
1  spiritual  (geislig)  is  our  whole  daily  Life  :  all  that  we  do  springs 
'  out  of  Mystery,  Spirit,  invisible  Force  ;  only  like  a  little  Cloud-  ' 
image,  or  Armida's  Palace,  air-built,  does*  the  Actual  body  itself  j 
'  forth  from  the  great  mystic  Deep. 

'Visible  and  tangible  products  of  the  Past,  again,  I  reckon 
'  up  to  the  extent  of  three :  Cities^  with  their  Cabinets  and 
1  Arsenals  ;  then  tU^ejO^ields^  to  either  or  to  both  of  which  divi- 

1  sions  Roads  with  their  Bridges  may  belong  ;  and  thirdly 

1  Books.  In  which  third  truly,  the  last-invented,  lies  a  worth  far 
1  surpassing  that  of  the  two  others.  Wondrous  indeed  is  the  vir- 
' tue  of  a  true  Book.  Not  like  a  dead  city  of  stones,  yearly 
1  (rumbling,  yearly  needing  repair  ;  more  like  a  tilled  field,  but 
1  then  a  spiritual  field ;  like  a  spiritual  tree,  let  me  rather  say,  it 
{  stands  from  year  to  year,  and  from  age  to  age  (we  have  Books 
'  that  already  number  some  hundred-and-fifty  human  ages)  :  and 
1  yearly  comes  its  newT  produce  of  leaves  (Commentaries,  Deduc- 
'  tions,  Philosophical,  Political  Systems  ;  or  were  it  only  Ser- 
'  mons,  Pamphlets,  Journalistic  Essays),  every  one   of  which  is 

*  talismanic  and  thauuiaturgic,  for  it  can  persuade  men.  0  thou 
1  who  art  able  to  write  a  Book,  which  once  in  the  two  centuries  or 
'  oftener  there  is  a  man  gifted  to  do,  envy  not  him  whom  they 
'  name  City-builder,  and  inexpressibly  pity  him  whom  they  name 
'  Conqueror  or  City-burner  !  Thou  too  art  a  Conqueror  and  Vic- 
'  tor  ;  but  of  the  true  sort,  namely  over  the  Devil :  thou  too  hast 
'  built  what  will  outlast  all  marble  and  metal,  and  be  a  wonder- 

v  bringing  City  of  the  Mind,  a  Temple  and  Seminary  and  Pro- 
I  phetic  Mount,  whereto  all  kindreds  of  the  Earth  will  pilgrim. — 

*  Fool !  why  journeyest  thou  wearisomely,  in  thy  antiquarian  fer- 
1  vour,  to  gaze  on  the  stone  pyramids  of  Geeza,  or  the  clay  ones 
'  of  Sacchara  ?  These  stand  there,  as  I  can  tell  thee,  idle  and 
'  inert,  looking  over  the  Desert,  foolishly  enough,  for  the  last 
4  three  thousand  years :  but  canst  thou  not  open  thy  Hebrew 
'Bible,  then,  or  even  Luther's  Version  thereof?' 

No  less  satisfactory  is  his  sudden  appearance  not  in  Battle, 
yet  on  some  Battle-field  ;  which,  we  soon  gather,  must  be  that  of 
Wagram :  so  that   here,  for  once,  is  a  certain  approximation  to 


CENTRE   OF   INDIFFERENCE.  135 

distinctness  of  date.      Omitting  much,  let  us  impart  what  fol- 
lows : 

•  Horrible  enough  !  A  whole  Marchfield  strewed  with  shell- 
splinters,  cannon  shot,  ruined  tumbrils,  and  dead  men  and  hor- 
I  ;  ses  ;  stragglers  still  remaining  not  so  much  as  buried.  And 
1  those  red  mould  heaps  :  ay,  there  lie  the  Shells  of  Men,  out  of 
/'  which  all  the  Life  and  Virtue  has  been  blown  ;  and  now  are 
r  they  swept  together,  and  crammed  down  out  of  sight,  like  blown 
/ '  Egg-shells  ! — Did  Nature,  when  she  bade  the  Donau  bring 
c  down  his  mould  cargoes  from  the  Carinthian  and  Carpathian 
'  Heights,  and  spread  them  out  here  into  the  softest,  richest 
'  level, — intend  thee,  0  Marchfield,  for  a  corn-bearing  Nursery, 
'-  whereon  her  children  might  be  nursed ;  or  for  a  Cockpit,  wherein 
'  they  might  the  more  commodiously  be  throttled  and  tattered  1 
'  Were  thy  three  broad  highways,  meeting  here  from  the  ends  of 
1  Europe,  made  for  Ammunition-wagons  then  %  Were  thy  Wa- 
f  grams  and  Stillfrieds  but  so  many  ready-built  Casemates, 
1  wherein  the  house  of  Hapsburg  might  batter  with  artillery,  and 
1  with  artillery  be  battered  1  Konig  Ottokar,  amid  yonder  hil- 
'  locks,  dies  under  Rodolf's  truncheon  ;  here  Kaiser  Franz  falls 
'  a-swoon  under  Napoleon's  :  within  which  five  centuries,  to  omit 
'the  others,  how  has  thy  breast,  fair  Plain,  been  defaced  and 
'  defiled_]_  The  greensward  is  torn  up  and  trampled  down  :  man's 
'  fond  care  of  it,  his  fruit-trees,  hedge-rows,  and  pleasant  dwell- 
'  ings,  blown  away  with  gunpowder  ;  and  the  kind  seedfield  lies 
'  a  desolate,  hideous  Place  of  Sculls. — Nevertheless,  Nature  is  at 
f  work  ;  neither  shall  these  Powder-Devilkins  with  their  utmost 
?  devilry  gainsay  her :  but  all  that  gore  and  carnage  will  be 
'  shrouded  in,  absorbed  into  manure  ;  and  next  year  the  March- 
'  field  will  be  green,  nay,  greener.  Thrifty  unwearied  Nature, 
1  ever  out  of  our  great  waste  educing  some  little  profit  of  thy 
'  own, — how  dost  thou,  from  the  very  carcass  of  the  Killer,  bring 
'  Life  for  the  Living.  — — _»r_ ,„_,_,. ... . 

'  What,  speaking  in  quite  unofficial  language,  is  the  net  pur- 
'  port  and  upshot  of  war  1  To  my  own  knowledge,  for  example, 
'"there  dwell  and  toil,  in  the  British  village  of  Dumdrudge, 
1  usually  some  five  hundred  souls.  From  these,  by  certain  "  Na- 
'  tural  Enemies"  of  the  French,  there  are  successively  selected, 


136  SARTOR  RES^RTUS. 


'  during  the  French  war,  say  thirty  able-bodied  men :  Duin- 
'  drudge,  at  her  own  expense,  has  suckled  and  nursed  them  ;  she 
'  has.  not  without  difficulty  and  sorrow,  fed  them  up  to  manhood, 
'  and  even  trained  them  up  to  crafts,  so  that  one  can  weave,  ano-. 
'  ther  build,  another  hammer,  and  the  weakest  can  stand  under 
'  thirty  stone  avoirdupois.  Nevertheless,  amid  much  weeping 
'  and  swearing,  they  are  selected ;  all  dressed  in  red ;  and 
'  shipped  away,  at  the  public  charges,  some  two  thousand  miles, 
'  or  say  only  to  the  south  of  Spain  ;  and  fed  there  till  wanted. 
'  And  now  to  that  same  spot  in  the  south  of  Spain,  are  thirty  simi-  j 
'  lar  French  artisans,  from  a  French  Dumdrudge,  in  like  manner 
'  wending  :  till  at  length,  after  infinite  effort,  the  two  parties 
'  come  into  actual  juxta-position ;  and  Thirty  stands  fronting 
'  Thirty,  each  with  a  gun  in  his  hand.  Straightway  the  word 
'  "  Fire  !:'  is  given  :  and  they  blow  the  souls  out  of  one  another  ; 
i  and  in  place  of  sixty  brisk  useful  craftsmen,  the  world  has  sixty 
'dead  carcasses,  which  it  must  bury,  and  anew  shed  tears  for. 
I J  lad  these  men  any  quarrel  ?  Busy  as  the  Devil  is,  not  the 
k  smallest !  They  lived  far  enough  apart ;  were  the  entirest 
'  strangers ;  nay,  in  so  wide  a  Universe,  there  was  even,  uncon- 
'  sciously,  by  Commerce,  some  mutual  helpfulness  between  them. 
'How  then?  Simpleton!  their  Governors  had  fallen  out;  and, 
'  instead  of  shooting  one  another,  had  the  cunning  to  make  these 
'poor  blockheads  shoot. -#- Alas,  so  is  it  in  Deutchsland,  and 
'  hitherto  in  all  other  lands  ;  still  as  of  old,  "  what  devilry  soever 
'  Kings  do,  the  Greeks  must  pay  the  piper !" — In  that  fiction  of 
*  the  English  Smollet,  it  is  true,  the  final  Cessation  of  War  is 
'perhaps  prophetically  shadowed  forth;  where  the  two  Natural 
1  Enemies,  in  person,  take  each  a  Tobacco-pipe,  filled  with  Brim- 
'  stone ;  light  the  same,  and  smoke  in  one  another's  faces  till  the 
'  weaker  gives  in  :  but  from  such  predicted  Peace-Era,  what 
'  blood-filled  trenches,  and  contentious  centuries,  may  still  di- 
'  vide  us  !^\ 

Thus  can  the  Professor,  at  least  in  lucid  intervals,  look  away 
from  his  own  sorrows,  over  the  many-coloured  world,  and  perti- 
nently enough  note  what  is  passing  there,  We  may  remark, 
indeed,  that  for  the  matter  of  spiritual  culture,  if  for  nothing  else, 
perhaps  few  periods  of  his  life  were  richer  than  this.     Internally, 


CENTRE   0#  INDIFFERENCE.  137 

■ ; ; ; V~; 7 

there  is  the  most  momentous  instructive  Course  of  Practical  Phi- 
losophy, with  Experiments;  going  on  ;  towards  the  right  compre- 
hension of  which  his  Peripatetic  habits,  favourable  ip  Meditation, 
might  help  him  rath«r"  than  hinder.  Externally,  again,  as  he 
wanders  to  and  fro,  there  are,  if  for  the  longing  heart  little 
substance,  yet  for  the  seeing  eye  sights  enough :  in  these  so 
boundless  Travels  of  his,  grafting  that  the  Satanic  School  was 
even  partially  kept  down^what  an  incredible  Knowledge  of  our 
Planet,  and  its  Inhabitants  and  their  "Works,  that  is  to  say,  of  all 
knowable  things,  might  not  Teufelsdrockh  acquire  ! 

'  I  have  read  in  most  Public  Libraries,'  says  he,  '  including 
'  those  of  Constantinople  and  Samarcand :  in  most  Colleges, 
4  except  the  Chinese  Mandarin  ones,  I  have  studied,  or  seen  that 
1  there  was  no  studying.  Unknown  Languages  have  I  oftenest 
'  gathered  from  their  natural  repertory,  the  Air,  by  my  organ  of 
'  Hearing ;  Statistics,  Geographies,  Topographies  came,  through 
4  the  Eye,  almost  of  their  own  accord.  The  ways  of  Man,  how  he 
1  seeks  food,  and  warmth,  and  protection  for  himself,  in  most 
'  regions,  are  ocularly  known  to  me.  Like  the  great  Hadrian,  I 
'  meted  out  much  of  the  terraqueous  Globe  with  a  pair  of  Com- 
I  passes  that  belonged  to  myself  only. 

'  Of  great  Scenes,  why  speak  1  Three  summer  days,  I  lingered 
'  reflecting,  and  even  composing  (dichtete),  by  the  Pine-chasms  of 
1  Vaucluse ;  and  in  that  clear  Lakelet  moistened  my  bread.  I 
'  have  sat  under  the  palm-trees  of  Tadmor ;  smoked  a  pipe  among 
1  the  ruins  of  Babylon.  The  great  Wall  of  China  I  have  seen  ; 
1  and  can  testify  that  it  is  of  grey  brick,  coped  and  covered  with 
'  granite,  and  shews  only  second-rate  masonry. — Great  Events, 
'  also,  have  I  not  witnessed  ?  Kings  sweated  down  (ausgcmergelt) 
4  into  Berlin-and-Milan  Customhouse-officers ;  the  World  well 
i  won,  and  the  world  well  lost ;  oftener  than  once  a  hundred 
1  thousand  individuals  shot  (by  each  other)  in  one  day.  All 
'  kindreds  and  peoples  and  nations  dashed  together,  and  shifted 
'  and  shovelled  into  heaps,  that  they  might  ferment  there,  and  in 
c  time  unite.  The  birth-pangs  of  Democracy,  wherewith  convulsed 
*  Europe  was  groaning  in  cries  that  reached  Heaven,  could  not 
c  escape  me. 

c  For  great  Men  I  have  ever  had  the  warmest  predilection ; 


138  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 


1  and  can  perhaps  boast  that  few  such  in  this  era  have  wholly 
4  escaped  me.  Great  Men  are  the  inspired  (speaking  and  acting) 
1  Texts  of  that  divine  Book  of  Revelations,  whereof  a  Chapter 
'  is  completed  from  epoch  to  epoch,  and  by  some  named  History;. 
'  to  which  inspired  Texts  your  numerous  talented  men,  and  your 
'  innumerable  untalented  men,  are  the  better  or  worse  exegetio 
'  Commentaries,  and  wagonload  of  too-stupid,  heretical  or  ortho- 
'  dox,  weekly  Sermons.  For  my  study,  the  inspired  Texts  them- 
'  selves  !  Thus  did  I  not,  in  very  early  days,  having  disguised  me 
'  as  tavern-waiter,  stand  behind  the  field-chairs,  under  that  shady 
'  Tree  at  Treisnitz  by  the  Jena  Highway ;  waiting  upon  the  great 
'  Schiller  and  greater  Goethe  ;  and  hearing  what  I  have  not  for- 

<  gotten.     For ' 

But  at  this  point  the  Editor  recalls  his  principle  of  cau- 
tion, some  time  ago  laid  down,  and  must  suppress  much.  Let 
.not  the  sacredness  of  Laurelled,  still  more,  of  Crowned  Heads,  bo 


i tampered  with.     Should  we,  at  a  future  day,  find  circumstances   l\ 
altered,  and    the    time    come    for  Publication,  then    may   thesa^ 
glimpses  into  the  privacy  of  the  Illustrious  be  conceded,;_whicli 
for  the  present  were  little  better  than  treacherous,  perhaps  traitor-    ' 
ous  Eavesdroppings.     Of  Lord  Byron,  therefore,  of  Pope  Pius, 
Emperor  Tarakwang,  and  the  '  White  Water  roses'  (Chinese  Car- 
bonari) with  their  mysteries,  no  notice  here  !     Of  Napoleon  him- 
self we  shall  only,  glancing  from  afar,  remark  that  Teufelsdrocklrs 
relation  to  him  seems  to  have  been  of  very  varied  character.     At 
first  we  find  our  poor  Professor  on  the  point  of  being  shot  as  a    ! 
spy ;  then  taken  into  private  conversation,  even  pinched  on  the 
ear,  yet  presented  with  no  money ;  at  last  indignantly  dismissed, 
almost  thrown  out  of  doors  as  an  '  Ideologist.'    '  He  himself,'  says 
the  Professor,  '  was  among  the  completest  Ideologists,  at  least 
'  Ideopraxists :  in   the   Idea  [in   der  Idee)  he  lived,  moved,   and 
'  fought.     The  man  was  a  Divine  Missionary,  though  unconscious 
'of  it ;  and  preached,  through  the  cannon's   throat,  that  great    . 
'  doctrine,  La  carriere  ouverte  aux  talnisWThc  Tools  to  him  that 
'can  handle  them)}  which   is   our  ultimate    Political    Evangel, 
'  wherein  alone  can  Liberty  lie.     Madly  enough  he  preached,  it  is 
1  true,  as  Enthusiasts  and  first  Missionaries  are  wont,  with  imper- 
•  feet  utterance,  amid  much  frothy  rant;  yet  as  articulately  per- 


CENTRE   OF   INDIFFERENCE.  139 

haps  as  the  case  admitted.  Or  call  him,  if  you  will,  an  American 
Backwoodsman,  who  had  to  fell  impenetrated  forests,  and  battle 
with  innumerable  wolves,  and  did  not  entirely  forbear  strong 
liquor,  rioting,  and  even  theft ;  whom,  notwithstanding,  the 
peaceful  Sower  will  follow,  and,  as  he  cuts  the  boundless  har- 
vest, bless.' 

More  legitimate  and  decisively  authentic  is  Teufelsdrockh's  ap- 
•earance  and  emergence  (we  know  not  well  whence)  in  the  soli- 
ude  of  the  North  Cape,  on  that  June  Midnight.  He  has  a 
light-blue  Spanish  cloak'  hanging  round  him,  as  his  '  most  com- 
nodious,  principal,  indeed  sole  upper-garment ;'  and  stands  there, 
»n  the  World-promontory,  looking  over  the  infinite  Brine,  like  a 
ittle  blue  Belfry  (as  we  figure),  now  motionless  indeed,  yet  ready, 
f  stirred  to  ring  quaintest  changes. 

f  Silence  as  of  death,'  writes  he  ;  '  for  midnight,  even  in  the 
Arctic  latitudes,  has  its  character :  nothing  but  the  granite  cliffs 
ruddy-tinged,  the  peaceable  gurgle  of  that  slow-heaving  Polar 
Ocean,  over  which  in  the  utmost  North  the  great  Sun  hangs  low 
and  lazy,  as  if  he  too  were  slumbering.  Yet  is  his  cloud-couch 
wrought  of  crimson  and  cloth-of-gold  ;  yet  does  his  light  stream 
over  the  mirror  of  waters,  like  a  tremulous  fire-pillar,  shooting 
downwards  to  the  abyss,  and  hide  itself  under  my  feet.  In 
such  moments,  Solitude  also  is  invaluable  :  for  who  would  speak, 
or  be  looked  on,  when  behind  him  lies  all  Europe  and  Africa, 
fast  asleep,  except  the  watchmen  ;  and  before  him  the  silent 
Immensity,  and  Palace  of  the  Eternal,  whereof  our  Sun  is  but 
a  porch-lamp. 

-  Nevertheless,  in  this  solemn  moment,  comes  a  man,  or  mon- 
ster, scrambling  from  among  the  rock-hollows  ;  and,  shaggy, 
huge  as  the  Hyperborean  Bear,  hails  me  in  Russian  speech  : 
most  probably,  therefore,  a  Russian  Smuggler.  With  courteous 
brevity,  I  signify  my  indifference  to  contraband  trade,  my  hu- 
mane intentions,  yet  strong  wish  to  be  private.  In  vain :  the 
monster,  counting  doubtless  on  his  superior  stature,  and  minded 
to  make  sport  for  himself,  or  perhaps  profit,  were  it  with  mur- 
der, continues  to  advance  :  ever  assailing  me  with  his  importu- 
nate train-oil  breath  :  and  now  has  advanced,  till  we  stand  both 
on  the  verge  of  the  rock,  the  deep  Sea  rippling  greedily  down 


140 


SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


'below.  What  argument  will  avail?  On  the  thick  Hyperb<" 
'  rean,  cherubic  reasoning,  seraphic  eloquence  were  lost.  Prt| 
'  pared  for  such  extremity,  I,  deftly  enough,  whisk  aside  one  step  j 
'  draw  out,  from  my  interior  reservoirs,  a  sufficient  Birmingham 
'Horse-pistol,  and  say,  "Be  so  obliging  as  retire,  Friend  (E . 
'  ziehe  sick  zuriick,  Freund),  and  with  promptitude  !"  This  logi' 
'even  the  Hyperborean  understands:  fast  enough,  with  ajiolo1 
'  getic,  petitionary  growl,  he  sidles  off ;  and,  except  for  suicida f 
1  as  well  as  homicidal  purposes,  need  not  return. 

'  Such  I  hold  to  be  the  genuine  use  of  Gunpowder :  that  ii 
'  makes  all  men  alike  tall.  Nay,  if  thou  be  cooler,  cleverer  thai 
1 1,  if  thou  have  more  Mind,  though  all  but  no  Body  whatever  I 
'  then  canst  thou  kill  me  first,  and  art  the  taller.  Hereby,  a,\\ 
'  last,  is  the  Goliath  powerless,  and  the  David  resistless  ;  savage1 
'  Animalism  is  nothing,  inventive  Spiritualism  is  all. 

'  With  respect  to  JPttels^indeed,  I  have  my  own  ideas.  Few 
'  things,  in  this  so  surprising  world,  strike  me  with  more  surprise.! 
'  Too  little  visual  Spectra  of  men,  hovering  with  insecure  enough 
'  cohesion  in  the  midst  of  the  Unfathomable,  and  to  dissolve- 
'  therein,  at  any  rate,  very  soon, — make  pause  at  the  distance  off 
'  twelve  paces  asunder  ;  whirl  round  ;  and,  simultaneously  by  the 
'  cunningest  mechanism,  explode  one  another  into  Dissolution  ; 
'and  off-hand  become  Air,  and  Non-extant !  Deuse  on  it  (nr- 
'  dam ml),  the  little  spitfires  ! — Nay,  I  think  with  old  Hugo  von: 
'  Trimberg  :  u  God  must  needs  laugh  outright,  could  such  a  thing 
'  be,  to  see  his  wondrous  Manikins  here  below."  ' 


But  amid  these  specialities,  let  us  not  forget  the  great  general* 
ity,  which  is  our  chief  (pest  here:  How  prospered  the  inner 
man  of  Teufelsdrockh  under  sq  much  outward  shifting  ?  Dofl 
Legion  still  lurk  in  him,  though  repressed  ;  or  has  he  exorcised 
that  Devil's  Brood?  We  can  answer  that  the  symptoms  continue  ' 
promising.  Experience  is  the  grand  spiritual  Doctor  ;  and  with 
him  Teufelsdrockh  has  now  been  long  a  patient,  swallowing  many 
a  bitter  bolus.  Unless  our  poor  Friend  belong  to  the  numerous 
class  of  Incurables,  which  seems  not  likely,  some  cure  will  doubt- 
less be  effected.  We  should  rather  say  that  Legion,  or  the  Satanic 
School,  was  now  pretty  well  extirpated  and  cast  out,  but  next  to " 


CENTRE   OF   INDIFFERENCE.  141 


.nothing  introduced  in  its  room  ;  whereby  the  heart  remains,  for 
tEe"  while,  in  a  quiet  but  no  comfortable  .state. 

'  At  length,  after  so  much  roasting,'  thus  writes  our  Autobiog- 

rapher,  '  I  was  what  you  might  name  calcined.     Pray  only  that 

it  be  not  rather,  as  is  the  more  frequent  issue,  reduced  to  a 

capul-hiorHiMtf0''"^ut  in  any  case,  by  mere  dint  of  practice,  I 

had  grown  familiar  with  many  things.     Wretchedness  was  still 

wretched  ;  but  I  could  now  partly  see  through  it,  and  despise  it. 

Which  highest  mortal,  in  this  inane  Existence,  had  I  not  found     J) 

a   Shadow-hunter,   or   Shadow-hunted ;    and,   when    I    looked  C___ 

through  his  brave  garnitures,  miserable  enough  %     Thy  wishes 

have  all  been  sniffed  aside,  thought  I :  but  what,  had  they  even 

been  all  granted  !    Did  not  the  Boy  Alexander  weep  because  he 

had  not  two  Planets  to  conquer  ;  or  a  whole  Solar  System  ;  or  f 

after  that,  a  whole  Universe  1      Ach  Gott,  when  I  gazed  into 

these  Stars,  have  they  not  looked  down  on  me  as  if  with  pity, 

•  from  their  serene  spaces ;  like  Eyes  glistening  with  heavenly 

tears  over  the  little  lot  of  man  !     Thousands  of  human  genera- 

1  tions,  all  as  noisy  as  our  own,  have  been  swallowed  up  of  Time, 

and  there  remains  no  wreck  of  them  any  more  ;  and  Arcturus 

and    Orion   and   Sirius  and  the  Pleiades  are  still  shining  in 

'  their  courses,  clear  and  young,  as  when  the  Shepherd  first  noted 

'  them  in  the  plain  of  Shinar.     Pshaw  !  what  is  this  paltry  little 

'  Dog-cage  of  an  Earth  ;  what  art  thou  that  sittest  whining  there  ? 

'  Thou  art  still  Nothing,  Nobody :  true ;  but  who  then  is  Some- 

1  thing,  Somebody  ?     For  thee  the  Family  of  Man  has  no  use  ;  it 

'  rejects  thee ;  thou  art  wholly  as  a  dissevered  limb :  so  be  it ; 

'  perhaps  it  is  better  so  !' 

Too  heavy-laden  Teufelsdrockh  !  Yet  surely  his  bands  are 
loosening  ;  one  day  he  will  hurl  the  burden  far  from  him,  and 
bound  forth  free,  and  with  a  second  youth. 

'  This,'  says  our  Professor, '  was  the  Centre  of  Indifference 
'  I  had  now  reached ;  through  which  whoso  travels  from  the 
'  Negative  Pole  to  the  Positive  must  necessarily  pass.' 


142  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


CHAPTER    IX 


THE    EVERLASTING    YEA. 


*  Temptations  in   the  Wilderness!'    exclaims  Teufelsdrockh  ( 
;  Have  we  not  all  to  be  Tried  with  such  ]      Not  so   easily  can  the' 
(  old  Adam,,  lodged  in  us  by  birth,  be  dispossessed.     Our  Life  ig ' 
'compassed  round  with  Necessity;  yet  is  the  meaning  of  Life 
£  itself  no  other  than  Freedom,  than  Voluntary  Force  ;  thus  have 
*  we  a  warfare  ;  in  the  beginning,  especially,  a  hard-fought  bat- 
tle.      For   the   God-given   mandate,    Work  thou   in  Welldoing, 
i  lies  mysteriously  written,  in  Promethean.  Prophetic  Characters, 
in  our  hearts  :  and  leaves  us  no  rest,  night  or  day,  till  it  be 
1  deciphered  and  obeyed ;    till  it  burn  forth,  in  our  conduct,  a 
'  visible,  acted  Gospel  of  Freedom.     And  as  the  clay -given  man- 
<date,    Eat  thou  and   be  filled,   at   the    same    time    persuasively 
'  proclaims  itself  through  every  nerve, — must  there  not  be  a  con-  l 
<  fusion,  a  contest,  before  the   better  Influence  can  become  the  ~ 
upper  ? 
'  To  me  nothing  seems  more  natural  than  that  the  Son  of  Man, 
1  when  such  God-given   mandate  first  prophetically  stirs  within 
'  him,  and  the  Clay  must  bow  be  vanquished  or  vanquish, — should 
be  carried  of  the  spirit  into  grim  Solitudes,  and   there  fronting 
1  the  Tempter  do  grimmest  battle  with  him  :  defiantly  setting  him 
at  naught,  till  he  yield  and  fly.      Nana'  it  as  we  ohoose :   with  or  \ 
without  visible  Devil,  whether  in  the  natural  Desert  of  rocks  ani 
sands,  or  in  the  populous  moral  Desert  of  selfishness  and  baseness, 
— to  such  Temptation  arc  we  all  called.      Unhappy  if  we  are  not. 
1  Unhappy  if  we  are  but  Half-men.  in  whom  that  divine  handwrit- 
ing has  never  blazed  forth,  all-subduing,  in  true  sun-splendour; 
'but  quivers  dubiously  amid  meaner  lights:  oi  smoulders,  in  dull 
'pain,  in  darkness,  under  earthly  vapours ! — Our  Wilderness  is 
'the.  wide  World  in  an  Atheistic  Century  ;  our  For 


THE  EVERLASTING  YEA.  143 

long  years  of  suffering  and  fasting :  nevertheless,  to  these  also 
'comes  an  end.  Yes,  to  me  also  was  given,  if  not  Victory,  yet 
'jjie  consciousness  of  Battle,  and  the  resolve  to  persevere  therein 

•  while  life  or  faculty  is  left.  To  me  also,  entangled  in  the  en- 
k  chanted  forests,  demon-peopled,  doleful  of  sight  and  of  sound,  it 
'was  given,  after  weariest  wanderings,  to  work  out  my  way  into 
'  the   higher  sunlit  slopes — of  that  Mountain  which  has  no  sum- 

'  mit,  or  whose  summit  is  in  Heaven  only  !'  ) 

He   says  elsewhere,  under  a  less  ambitious  figure  ;  as  figures 
are,  once  for  all,  natural  to  him  :  '  Has  not  thy  Life  been  that  of 

•  most  sufficient  men  {i'itchtigen  Manner)  thou  hast  known  in  this 

•  generation  ?  An  outflush  of  foolish  young  Enthusiasm,  like  the 
'first  fallow-crop,  wherein  are  as  many  weeds  as  valuable  herbs  : 

'  this  all  parched  away,  under  the  .Droughts  of  practical  and  \ 
'spiritual  Unbelief;  as  Disappointment,  in  thought  and  act,  \ 
'  often-repeated  gave  rise  to  Doubt,  and  Doubt  gradually  settled  I 
'  into  Denial !  If 'I  have  had  a  second-crop,  and  now  see  the  peren-' 
1  nial  greensward,  and  sit  under  umbrageous  cedars,  which  defy' 
'all  Drought  (and  Doubt)  ;  herein  too,  be  the  Heavens  praised^I 
'  am  not  without  examples,  and  even  exemplars.'  ^ 

So  that,  for   Teufelsdrockh  also,  there  has  been  a   '  glorious, 
revolution :'  these  mad  shadow-hunting  and  shadow-hunted  Pil-| 
grimings  of  his  were  but  some  purifying  '  Temptation  in   the. 
Wilderness,'  before  his  apostolic  work  (such  as  it  was)   could 
begin ;  which  Temptation  is  now  happily  over,  and   the  Devil  | 
once  more  worsted  !      Was  '  that  high  moment  in  the  Rue  de  \ 
VEnferJ  then,  properly  the  turning  point  of  the  battle  ;  when  the 
Fiend   said,  Worship  me,  or  be  torn  in  shreds,  and  was  answered 
valiantly  with  an  Apage  Satana  ? — Singular  Teufelsdrockh,  would 
thou  hadst  told  thy  singular   story  in  plain  words !     But  it  is 
fruitless  to  look  there,  in  those  Paper-bags,  for  such.  ..  Nothing 
but  inuendoes.   figurative  crotchets  :    a  typical  Shadow,  fitfully 
wavering,  prophetico-satiric ;    no   clear  logical   Picture.    /^How 
'  paint  to  the  sensual  eye,'  asks  he  once,  '  what  passes  in  the  Holy- 
'  of-Holies  of  Man's  Soul ;  in  what  words,  known  to  these  profane 
'  times,  speak  even  afar  off  of  the  unspeakable  V   We  ask  in  turn  : 
Why  perplex  these  times,  profane  as  they  are,  with  needless 
obscurity,  by  omission  and  by  commission  ?  /  Not  mystical  only 


Ul  SARTOR    RESARTUS. 

is  our  Professor,  but  whimsical ;  and  involves  himself,  now  more 
than  ever,  in  eye-bewildering  chiaroscuro.  Successive  glimpses.! 
here  faithfully  imparted,  our  more  gifted  readers  must  endeavour: 
to  combine  for  their  own  behoof^ 

He  says:  'The  hot  Harmattan-wind  had  raged  itself  out:  its, 
'howl  went  silent  within  me;  and  the  long-deafened  soul  could; 
'  now  hear.  I  paused  in  my  wild  wanderings  ;  and  sat  me  down! 
'  to  wait,  and  consider;  for  it  was  as  if  the  hour  of  change  drew  . 
'  nigh.  I  seemed  to  surrender,  to  renounce  utterly,  and  say: 
'Fly,  then,  false  shadows  of  Hope:  I  will  chase  you  no  more,  Ij 
'  will  believe  you  no  more.  And  ye  too  haggard  spectres  of  Fear, 
'  I  care  not  for  you ;  ye  too  are  all  shadows  and  a  lie.  LetTme  I 
'  rest  here  :  for  I  am  way-weary  and  life  weary  ;  I  will  rest  here, 
'  were  it  but  to  die  :  to  die  or  to  live  is  alike  to  me  ;  alike  insig- 
'  nificant.' — And  again  :  l\  Here,  then,  as  I  lay  in  that  Centre  of 
'  Indifference  ;  cast,  doubtless  by  benignant  upper  Influence,  in-  |i 
'  to  a  healing  sleep,  the  heavy  dreams  rolled  gradually  away,  and 
'  I  awoke  to  a  new  Heaven  and  a  new  Earth.  The  first  prelimi- 
'nary  moral  Act,  Annihilation  of  Self  (Sebst-toJtu/ip),  had  been 
1  happily  accomplished  ;  and  my  minds'  eyes  were  now  unsealed, 
'  and  its  hands  ungyved.' 

Might  we  not  also  conjecture  that  the  following  passage  refers  ■ 
to  his  Locality,  during  this  same  'healing  sleep  ;'  that  his  Pil- 
grim-staff lies  cast  aside  here  on  '  the  high  table-land;'  and  in- 
deed that  the  repose  is  already  taking  wholesome  effect  on  him? 
If  it  were  not  that  the  tone,  in  some  parts,  lias  more  of  riancy, 
even  of  levity,  than  we  could  have  expected  !  However,  in  Teu- 
felsdrockh,  there  is  always  the  strangest  Dualism  :  light  dancing, 
with  guitar-music,  will  be  going  on  in  the  fore-court,  while  by  fits 
from  within  comes  the  faint  whimpering  of  woe  and  wail.  We 
transcribe  the  piece  entire  : 

1  Beautiful  it  was  to  sit  there,  as  in  my  skyey  Tent,  musing  and 
'  meditating;  on  the  high  table-land,  in  front  of  the  Mountains] 
1  over  me.  as  roof,  the  azure  Dome,  and  around  me,  for  walls,  four 
'  azure  flowing  curtains, — namely,  of  the  Four  azure  Winds,  on 

•  whose  bottom-fringes  also  I  have  seen  gilding.     And  then  to 

•  fancy  the  fair  Castles,  that  stood  sheltered  in  these  Mountain 
'hollows;  with  their  green  flower  Lawns,  and  white  dames  and 


1 


THE   EVERLASTING  YEA.  115 

1  daniosels,  lovely  enough :  or  better  still,  the  straw-roofed  Cot- 

*  tages,  wherein  stood  many  a  Mother  baking  bread,  with  her  chil- 
'  dren  round  her  : — all  hidden  and  protectingly  folded  up  in  the 
'  valley-folds ;  yet  there  and  alive,  as  sure  as  if  I  beheld  them. 
I  Or  to  see,  as  well  as  fancy,  the  nine  Towns  and  Villages,  that 
1  lay  round  my  mountain-seat,  which  in  still  weather,  were  wont 
'  to  speak  to  me  (by  their  steeple-bells)  with  metal  tongue  ;  and, 
'  in  almost  all  weather,  proclaimed  their  vitality  by  repeated 
j  Smoke-clouds  ;  whereon,  as  on  a  culinary  horologe,  I  might  read 
1  the  hour  of  the  day.  For  it  was  the  smoke  of  cookery,  as  kind 
'  housewives  at  morning,  midday,  eventide,  were  boiling  their  hus- 
(  bands'  kettles  :  and  ever  a  blue  pillar  rose  up  into  the  air,  succes- 
( sively  or  simultaneously,  from  each  of  the  nine,  saying,  as  plain- 
'  ly  as  smoke  could  say :  Such  and  such  a  meal  is  getting  ready 
i  here.  Not  uninteresting !  For  you  have  the  whole  Borough, 
[  with  all  its  love-makings  and  scandal-mongeries,  contentions  and 
f  contentments,  as  in  miniature,  and  could  cover  it  all  with  your 
1  hat. — If,  in  my  wide  Wayfarings,  I  had  learned  to  look  into  the 
\  business  of  the  World  in  its  details,  here  perhaps  was  the  place 
'for  combining  it  into  general  propositions,  and  deducing  in-^ 
'ferences  therefrom. 

1  Often  also  could  I  see  the  black  Tempest  marching  in  anger 
i  through  the  Distance  :  around  some  Schreekhorn,  as  yet  grini- 
;  blue,  would  the  eddying  vapour  gather,  and  there  tumultuously 

•  eddy,  and  flow  down  like  a  mad  witch's  hair ;  till,  after  a  space, 

*  it  vanished,  and,  in  the  clear  sunbeam,  your  Schreekhorn  stood 
:  smiling  grim-white,  for  the  vapour  had  held  snow.  How  thou 
:  fermentest  and  elaboratest  in  thy  great  fermenting-vat  and  la- 
:  boratory  of  an  Atmosphere,  of  a  World,  0  Nature  ! — Or  what 

•  is  nature  ?  Ha  !  why  do  I  not  name  thee  God  %  Art  thou  not 
'  the  "  Living  Garment  of  God  ?"  O  Heavens,  is  it,  in  very 
-deed,  He  then  that  ever  speaks  through  thee;  that  lives  and* 
;  loves  in  thee,  that  lives  and  loves  in  me  1  \L 

1  Fore-shadows,  call  them  rather  fore-splendours,  of  that  Truth,f 

-  and  Beginning  of  Traths,  fell  mysteriously  over  my  soul. I 
Sweeter  than  Dayspring  to  the  Shipwrecked  in  Nova  Zembla  ;* 
ah !  like  the  mother's  voice  to  her  little  child  that  strays  bewil- 

-  dered,  weeping,  in  unknown  tumults ;   like  soft  streamings  of 


146  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


*oty 


i 


'  celestial  music  to  my  too  exasperated  heart,  came  that  Evangel 
■'  The  Universe  is  not  dead  and  demoniacal,  a  charnel-house  with 
spectres  :  but  godlike,  and  my  Father's  ! 
'  With  other  eyes,  too,  could   I  now  look  upon  my  fellow  man ;  I 
'  with  an  infinite  Love,  ajx  infinite  Pijy.     Poor,  wandering,  way- 
'  ward  man  !     Art  thou  not  tried,  and  beaten  with  stripes,  even 
'as  I  am ?     Ever,  whether   thou  bear  the  royal  mantle  or  the  ' 
'  beggar's  gabardine,  art  thou  not  so  weary,  so  heavy-laden  ;  and  I 
'  thy  Bed  of  Rest,  is  but  a  grave,      0   my  Brother,  my  Brother, 
'  why  cannot  I  shelter  thee  in  my  bosom,  and  wipe  away  all  tears 
'  from  thy  eyes  ! — Truly,  the   din  of  many-voiced  Life,  which  in  i 
'  this  solitude,  with  the  mind's  organ,  I  could  hear,  was  no  longer  I 
'  a  maddening  discord,  but  a  melting  one  :  like  inarticulate  cries,  \ 
'  and  --sobbings  of  a  dumb  creature,  which  in  the  ear  of  Heaven 
'  are  prayers.     The  poor  Earth,  with  her  poor  joys,  was  now  my  j 
'  needy  Mother,  not  my  cruel  Stepdame  ;    Man,  with  his  so  mad  I 
Wants  and  so  mean  Endeavours,  had  become  the  dearer  to  me ;  j 
and  even  for  his  sufferings  and  his  sins,  I  now  first  named  him 
brother.      Thus  was  I  standing  in  the  porch  of  that  c;  Sanctuary 
of  Sorrow;"  by  strange,    steep   ways,  had  I  too  been  guided1, 
thither ;    and  ere   long  its  sacred   gates  would  open,  and    the  | 
"Divine  Depth  of  Sorrow"  lie  disclosed  to  me.' 

The  Professor  says,  he  here  first  got  eye  on  the  Knot  that  had  I 
been  strangling  him,  and  straightway  could  unfasten  it.  and  was 
T  free.     '  A  vain  interminable  controversy,'  writes  he,  '  touching  | 
'  what  is  at  present  called   Qrigin_of_Evil,  or  some  such  thing,  j 
'arises  in  every  soul,  since  the  beginning  of  the  world;  and  in  j 
•  every  soul,  that  would  pass  from  idle  Suffering  into  actual  En- 
'  deavouring.  must  first  be  put  an  end  to.      The  most,  in  our  time, 
'  have  to  go  content  with  a  simple,  incomplete  enough  Suppression 
4  of  this  controversy  ;  to  a  few  some  Solution  of  it  is  indispensa£ 
'ble.     In  every  new  era,  too,  such  Solution  comes  out  in  different 
1  terms  ;  and  ever  the  Solution  of  the  last  era  has  become  obso-  j 
'lcte,  and  is  found  unserviceable.      For    it    is  man's    nature  to  ^ 
1  change  his  Dialect  from  century  to  century  j   he  cannot  help  it 
'though    lie    would.       The  authentic    Chwrch- Catechism    of  our 
'present  century  has  not   yet    fallen    into  my  hands  :   meanwhile, 
1  Cor  in)  own  private  behoof,  1  attempt  to  elucidate  the  matter  90. 


• 


THE   EVERLASTING  YEA.  147 

'  Man's  Unkappjness,  as  I  construe^  comes  ^>f  his  Greatness  ;  it  is 
'  because :  there  is  an  Infinite  in  him,  which  with  all  his  cunning 
'  he  cannot  quite  bury  under  the  Finite.  Will  the  whole  Finance 
'  Ministers  and  Upholsterers  and  Confectioners  of  modern  Europe 
'  undertake,  in  joint-stock  company,  to  make  one  Shoeblack 
'haity  ?  They  cannot  accomplish  it,  above  an  hour  or  two  ;  for 
'  the  Shoeblack  also  has  a  Soul  quite  other  than  his  Stomach : 
'  and  would  require,  if  you  consider  it,  for  his  permanent  satisfac- 
tion and  saturation,  simply  this  allotment,  no  more,  and  no  less : 
'-  GocVs  infinite  Universe  altogether  to  himself,  therein  to  enjoy  infi- 
'  nitely,  and  fill  every  wish  as  fast  as  it  rose.     Oceans  of  Hoch- 

•  heimer,  a  Throat  like  that  of  Ophiuchus  :  speak  not  of  them  :  to 
'  the  infinite  Shoeblack  they  are  as  nothing.  No  sooner  is  your 
-  ocean  filled,  than  he  grumbles  that  it  might  have  been  of  better 
:  vintage.  Try  him  with  half  of  a  Universe,  of  an  Omnipotence, 
'  he  sets  to  quarrelling  with  the  proprietor  of  the  other  half,  and 
'  declares  himself  the  most  maltreated  of  men. — Always  there  is 

:  a  mack  sPot  m  our,ju^_mLie  :   ^  *s  evenj  as  I  sa^j  tne  Shadow 

•  of  Ourselves. 

"Tfcut  the  whim  we  have  of  Happiness  is  somewhat  thus.  By 
'  certain  valuations,  and  averages,  of  our  own  striking,  we  come 
'  upon  some  sort  of  average  terrestrial  lot  ;  this  we  fancy  belongs 
'  to  us  by  nature,  and  of  indefeasible  right.  It  is  simple  pay' 
'  ment  of  our  wages,  of  our  deserts  ;  requires  neither  thanks  nor 
'  complaint :  only  such  overplus  as  there  may  be  do  we  account 

•  Happiness  ;  any  deficit  again  is  Misery.     Now  consider  that  we 
'  have  the  valuation  of  our  own  deserts  ourselves,  and  what  a  fund 
'  of  Self-conceit  there  is  in  each  of  us, — do  you  wonder  that  the 
w  balance  should  so  often  dip  the  wrong  way,  and  many  a  Block- 
[  head  cry  :  See  there,  what  a  payment ;  was  ever  worthy  gentle- 
man so  used ! — I  tell  thee,  Blockhead,  it  all  comes  of  thy  Vani- 
ty ;  of  what  thou  fanciest  those    same  deserts  of  thine  to  be. 
Fancy   that  thou   deservest  to  be  hanged  (as  is  most  likely), 
thou  wilt  feel  it  happiness  to  be  only  shot :  fancy  that  thou 
deservest  to  be  hanged  in  a  hair-halter,  it  will  be  a  luxury  to 
die  in  hemp. 

!  So  true  it  is,  what  I  then  said,  that  the  Fraction  of  Life  can  be 
increased  in  value  not  so  muck  by  increasing  your  Numerator  aTEy 


-*1 

r    148  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 


r 


N  lessening  your  Denominator.  Nay,  unless  my  Algebra  deceive 
f  me,  Unit//  itself  divided  by  Z# 'o  will  give  Infinity.     Makejhy 

!  claim  i  f  wages  a  zero,  then  ;   thou  hast  the  world  under  thy  feet. 
Well  did  the  Wisest  of  our  time  write  :  u  It  is  only  with  Renun- 
'  eiation  (E/ilsa»en)  that   Life,  properly  speaking,  can  be   said  to  i 
•begin/' 

I  'I  asked  myself:  What  is  this  that,  ever  since  earliest  years,  ■ 
'  thou  hast  been  fretting  and  fuming,  and  lamenting  and  self-tor-  ' 
'  menting,  on  account  of?  Say  it  in  a  word :  is  it  not  because- 
( thou  art  not  happy  ?  Because  the  Thou  (sweet  gentleman)  is 
'  not  sufficiently  honoured,  nourished,  soft-bedded,  and  lovingly- ' 
v'  cared  for  ?  Foolish  soul !  What  Act  of  Legislature  was  there 
'  that  thou  shouldst  be  Happy  ?  A  little  while  ago  thou  hadst  no 
'  right  to  be  at  all.  What  if  thou  wert  born  and  predestined 
'  not  to  be  Happy,  but  to  be  Unhappy!  Art  thou  nothing  other 
'  than  a  Vulture,  then,  that  fliest  through  the  Universe  seeking 
'  after  somewhat  to  eat ;  and  shrieking  dolefully  because  carrion 
'  enough  is  not  given  thee'?  Close  thyJSyron- ;  open  thy _Gocihe.i 
'  Es  leuchtet  mir  ein.  I  see  a  glimpse  ofitT  cries  he  elsewhere : 
'  there  is  in  man  a  Higher  than  Love  of  Happiness  :  he  can  do 
'without  Happiness,  and  instead  thereof  find  Blessedness!  Was 
'  it  not  to  preach  forth  this  same  Higher  that  sages  and  martyrs, 
'  the  Poet  and  the  Priest,  in  all  times,  have  spoken  and  suffered  ; 
'  bearing  testimony,  through  life  and  through  death,  of  the  God- 
'  like  that  is  in  Man,  and  how  in  the  Godlike  only  has  he 
c  Strength  and  Freedom  ?  Which  God-inspired  Doctrine  art  thou 
1  also  honoured  to  be  taught ;  0  Heavens !  and  broken  with 
1  manifold  merciful  Afflictions,  even  till  thou  become  contrite, 
'  and  learn  it!  0  thank  thy  Destiny -for  these;  thankfully  bear 
'what  yet  remain :  thou  hadst  need  of  them;   the  Self  jn_thee 

•  needed  to  be  annihilated.  By  benignant  fever-paroxysms  is 
k  Life  rooting  out  the  deep-seated  chronic  Disease,  and  triumphs 
'  over  Death.      On  the  roaring  billows  of  Time,  thou  art  not  en- 

*  gulphcd,  but  borne  aloft  into  the  azure  of  Eternity.  Love  not 
(  Pleasure :  love  God.  This  is  the  Everlasting  Yea,  wherein j 
■  all  contradiction  i&  solved;  wherein  whoso  walks   and  works,  it 

•   J  is  well  with  him.' 

And  again :  (  Small  is  it  that  thou  canst   trample  the  Earth 


THE   EVERLASTING   YEA.  149 

'  with  its  injuries  under  thy  feet,  as  old  Greek  Zeno  trained  thee  : 
'  thou  canst  love  the  Earth  while  it  injures  thee,  and  even  because 
'it  injures  thee:  for  this  a  Greater  than  Zeno  was  needed,  and 
'he  too  was  sent.  Knowest  thou  that  " Worship  of  Sorrow ?" 
'  The  Temple  thereof,  founded  some  eighteen  centuries  ago,  now 
1  lies  in  ruins,  overgrown  with  jungle,  the  habitation  of  doleful 
'  creatures  :  nevertheless,  venture  forward  ;  in  a  low  crypt,  arched 
1  out  of  falling  fragments,  thou  findest  the  Altar  still  there,  and 
I  its  sacred  Lamp  perennially  burning.' 

Without  pretending  to  comment  on  which  strange  utterances, 
the  Editor  will  only  remark,  that  there  lies  beside  them  much  of 
a  still  more  questionable  character  ;  unsuited  to  the  general  ap- 
prehension ;  nay  wherein  he  himself  does  not  see  his  way.  Ne- 
bulous disquisitions  on  Religion,  yet  not  without  bursts  of  splen- 
dour ;  on  the '  perennial  continuance  of  Inspiration  ;'  on  Prophecy; 
that  there  are  '  true  Priests,  as  well  as  Baal-Priests,  in  our  own 
day  :'  with  more  of  the  like  sort.  We  select  some  fractions  by 
way  of  finish  to  this  farrago. 

'  Cease,  my  much-respected  Herr  von  Voltaire,'  thus  apostro- 
phises the  Professor  :  '  shut  thy  sweet  voice  ;  for  the  task  appoint- 
I  ed  thee  seems  finished.  Sufficiently  hast  thou  demonstrated 
'  this  proposition,  considerable  or  otherwise  :  That  the  Mythus 
'  of  the  Christian  Religion  looks  not  in  the  eighteenth  century  as 
1  it  did  in  the  eighth.  Alas,  were  thy  six-and-thirty  quartos,  and 
'  the  six-and-thirty  thousand  other  quartos  and  folios,  and  flying 
'  sheets  or  reams,  printed  before  and  since  on  the  same  subject, 
'  all  needed  to  convince  us  of  so  little  !  But  what  next  ?  Wilt 
'  thou  help  us  to  embody  the  divine  Spirit  of  that  Religion  in  a 
'  new  Mythus,  in  a  new  vehicle  and  vesturejthat  our  Souls,  other-j 
'  wise  too  like  perishing,  may  live  ?  What !  thou  hast  no  faculty 
'  in  that  kind  ?  Only  a  torch  for  burning,  no  hammer  for  build- 
'ing  I     Take  our  thanks,  then,  and thyself  away. 

'  Meanwhile  what  are  antiquated  Mythuses  to  me  ?//Or  is  the 
1  God  present,  felt  in  my  own  heart,  a  thing  which  Herr  yon  Vol- 
1  taire  will  dispute  out  of  me  ;  or  dispute  into  me  ?  /  To  the 
'  "  Worship  of  Sorrow"  ascribe  what  origin  and  genesis  thou  pleas-- 
c  est,  has  not  that  Worship  originated,  and  been  generated 
1  not  here  ?     Feel  it  in  thy  heart,  and  then  say  whether 


iu  pleas-~7 
id ;  is  itj 
it  is  or 


*$t 


v       150  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

«si 

2<  God !     This   is  Belief ;  all  else  is  Opinion, — for  which  latter 
'whoso  will  let  him  worry  and  be  worried.' 

'  Neither.'  observes  he  elsewhere,  '  shall  ye  tear  out  one  an- 
•'  other's  eyes,  struggling  over  "  Plenary  Inspiration,"  and  such 
'  like  :  try  rather  to  get  a  little  even  Partial  Inspiration,  each  of 
'  you  for  himself.  One  Bible  I  know,  of  whose  Plenary  Inspira- 
1  tion  doubt  is  not  so  much  as  possible  :  nay  with  my  own  eyes  I 
:  saw  the  God's-Hand  writing  it :  thereof  all  other  Bibles  are  but 
'  Leaves, — say,  in  Picture-Writing  to  assist  the  weaker  faculty.' 

Or  to  give  the  wearied  reader  relief,  and  bring  it  to  an  end, 
let  him  take  the  following  perhaps  more  intelligible  passage  : 

'  To  me,  in  this  our  Life,'  says  the  Professor,  '  which  is  an  in- 
'  ternecine  warfare  with  the  Time-spirit,  other  warfare  seems 
'  questionable.  Hast  thou  in  any  way  a  Contention  with  thy 
1  brother,  I  advise  thee,  think  well  what  the  meaning  thereof  is. 
1  If  thou  gauge  it  to  the  bottom,  it  is  simply  this  :/'  Fellow,  see  ! 
1  thou  art  taking  more  than  thy  share  of  Happiness  in  the  world, 
1  something  from  my  share  :  which,  by  the  Heavens,  thou  shalt 

•  not ;  nay  I  will  fight  thee  rather/' — Alas  !  and  the  whole  lot  to 
;  be  divided  is  such  a  beggarly  matter,  truly  a  '•  feast  of  shells," 
'  for  the  substance  has  been  spilled  out :  not  enough  to  quench 
4  one  Appetite ;  and  the  collective  human  species  clutching  at 
1  them  ! — Can  we  not,  in  all  such  cases,  rather  say :  "  Take  it, 
'  thou  too-ravenous  individual :  take  that  pitiful  additional  frac- 

'  tion  of  a  share,  which  I  reckoned  mine,  but  which  thou  so  want-  j 
1  est :  take  it  with  a  blessing :  would  to  Heaven  I  had  enough 
1  for  thee!" — If  Fichte's  Wissenschaftslehre  be,  '•  to  a  certain  ex- 
'  tent,  Applied  Christianity,"  surely  to  a  still  greater  extent,  so 
is  this.  We  have  here  not  a  Whole  Duty  of  Man.  yet  a  Half 
1  Duty,  namely  the  Passive  half:  could  we  but  do  it.  as  we  can 
'  demonstrate  it ! 
v/V  '  But  indeed  Conviction,  were  it  never  so  excellent,  is  worthless 
till  it  convert  itself  into  Conduct.  Xay  properly  Conviction  is 
not  possible  till  then  :   inasmuch  as  all    Speculation  L8  by  nature 

•  endless,  formless,  a  vortex  amid  vortices  :  onlj  by  a  felt  indu- 

•  bitable  certainty  of  Experience  does  it  find  any  centre  to  revolve 

•  round,  and  BO  fashion  itself  into  a  Bystem.  Most  true  is  it,  a^a 
'  wise  man  teaches  us,  that  "  Doubt  of  auy  sort  cannot  be  reniov- 


THE  ETERLASTING  YEA.  151 

'  ed  except  by  Action."  f  On  which  ground  too  let  him  who  gropes 
'painfully  in  darkness  oFuncertain  light,  and  prays  vehemently 
'  that  the  dawn  may  ripen  into  day,  lay  this  other  precept  well  to 
'heart,  which  to  me  was  of  invaluable   service:  "  Do  the  Duty y 

*  which  Itfs  nearest  thee,^  which  thou  knpwest  to  he  n.  "Duty  !  Thy 
'  sec^ndJittty--wiU-4ilr€ady  have  become  clearer. 

'  May  we  not  say,  however,  that  the  hour  of  Spiritual  lEnfran- 
'  chisement  is  even  this  :  When  your  Ideal  World,  wherein  the 
'  whole  man  has  been  dimly  struggling  and  inexpressibly  lan- 
'  guishing  to  work,  becomes  revealed  and  thrown  open  ;  and  you 
'  discover,  with  amazement  enough,  like  the  Lothario  in  Wilhelm 
1  Meister,  that  your  "  America  is  here  or  nowhere  V  The  Situa- 
'  tion  that  has  not  its  Duty,  its  Ideal,  was  never  yet  occupied  by 
'  man.  Yes  here,  in  this  poor,  miserable,  hampered,  despicable 
'  Actual,  wherein  thou  even  now  standest,  here  or  nowhere  is  thy 
'  Ideal :  work  it  out  therefrom  ;  and  working,  believe,  live,  be  free. 
'  Fool !  the  Ideal  is  in  thyself,  the  Impediment  too  is  in  thyself : 
'  thy  Condition  is  but  the  stuff  thou  art  to  shape  that  same  Ideal 
'  out  of ;  what  matters  whether  such  stuff  be  of  this  sort  or  that, 
'  so  the  Form  thou  give  it  be  heroic,  be  poetic  1  0  thou  that 
'  pinest  in  the  imprisonment  of  the  Actual,  and  criest  bitterly  to 
'  the  gods  for  a  kingdom  wherein  to  rule  and  create,  know  this  of 
'  a  truth  :  the  thing  thou  seekest  is  already  with  thee,  "  here  or 
'  nowhere,"  couldst  thou  only  see  ! 

1  Butit  is  with  man's  Soul  as  it  was  with  Nature  :  the  begin- 1 
'  ning  of  Creation  is — Light.      Till  the  eye  have^yisioa^the  whole / 
'  members^rej^honds^  Divine"  moment,  ^wnlmover  the  tempest- 
'  tost  Soul,  as  once  over  the  wild-weltering  Chaos,  it  is  spoken  :  | 
'  Let  there  be  light  ?     Ever  to  the  greatest  that  has  felt  such  mo- / 
'  ment,  is  it  not  miraculous  and  God-announcing  ;  even  as,  under 
'  simpler  figures,  to  the  simplest  and  least.     The  mad  primeval; 
'  Discord  is  hushed  ;    the  rudely-jumbled    conflicting   elements 
'  bind  themselves  into  separate  Firmaments  :  deep  silent  roc;:- 
'  foundations  are  built  beneath  ;   and  the  skyey  vault  with  its 
'  everlasting    Luminaries    above :    instead    of    a    dark   wasteful 
'  Chaos,  we  have  a  blooming,  fertile.  Heaven-encompassed  World. 
X '  I  too  could  now  say  to  myself :  Be  no  longer  a  Chaos,  but  a 

*  World,  or  even  Worldkin.     Prjoj^eJ^Eroducji.!     Were  it  but 


152  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


^L 


: 


the  pitifulest  infinitesimal  fraction  of  a  Prodaefcy produce  it  in 
God's  name  !     ;T  is  the  utmost  thou  hast  in  thee^  .out  with  it 


'then.  ZUp,  up  !  Whatsoejgj^iiyJiand-Andcth  to^,---dtrrtrwitir 
'  thy  whole  might.  Work  while  it  is  called  To-day.  for  the  Night 
'  cometh  wherein  no  man  can  work.'  m 


PAUSE.  153 


CHAPTER    X. 

PAUSE. 

Thus  have  we,  as  closely  and  perhaps  satisfactorily  as,  in  such 
circumstances,  might  be,  followed  Teufelsdrockh  through  the  va- 
rious successive  states  and  stages  of  Gtr^wth^Eiitanglement, 
Unbelief,  and  almost  Reprobation,  into  a  certain  clearer  state  of 
what  he  himself  seems  to  consider  as  Conversion.  '  Blame  not 
:  the  word,'  says  he  ;  i  rejoice  rather  that  such  a  word,  signifying 
I  such  a  thing,  has  come  to  light  in  our  Modern  Era,  though 
1  hidden  from  the  wisest  Ancients.  The  Old  World  knew  no- 
( thing  of  Conversion  :  instead  of  an  Ecce  Homo,  they  had  only 
1  some  Choice  of  Hercules.  It  was  a  new-attained  progress  in  the 
'  Moral  Development  of  man  :  hereby  has  the  Highest  come  home 
*  to  the  bosoms  of  the  most  Limited  ;  what  to  Plato  was  but  a 
1  hallucination,  and  to  Socrates  a  chimera,  is  now  clear  and  cer- 
I  tain  to  your  Zinzendorfs,  your  Wesleys,  and  the  poorest  of  their 
1  Pietists  and  Methodists.' 

It  is  here  then  that  the  spiritual  majority  of  Teufelsdrockh 
commences :  we  are  henceforth  to  see  him  '  work  in  well-doing,' 
with  the  spirit  and  clear  aims  of  a  Man.     He  has  discovered 
that  t]^..IdeiLL.Workshop^he  so  panted  for,  is  even  this  same  Ac- 
tual ill-furnished  Workshop  he  has  so  long  been  stumbling  in.    He 
can  say"  to  himself:  '  Tools  ?     Thou  hast  no  Tools?    Why,  there 
i&not  a  Man,  or  a  Thing,  now  alive  but  has  tools.     The  basest 
'  of  created  animalcules,  the  Spider  itself  has  a  spinning-jenny, 
and  warping-mill,  and  power-loom,  within  its  head  ;  the  stupid- 
est of  Oysters  has  a  Papin's-Digester,  with  stotfe-and-lime  house 
1  to  hold  it  in  :  every  being  that  can  live  can  do  something  ;  this 
'  let  him  do.     Tools  ?     Hast  thou  not  a  Brain,  furnished,  furnish- 
1  able  with  some  glimmerings  of  Light ;  and  three  fingers  to  hold 
i  a  Pen  withal  ?     Never  since  Aaron's  Rod  went  out  of  prac- 

8* 


154  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

c  tice,  or  even  before  it,  was  there  such  a  wonder-working  Tool  ' 
'  greater  than  all  recorded  miracles  have  been  performed  by  Pens . 
'  For  strangely  in  this  so  solid-seeming  World,  which  neverthe- 
1  less  is  in  continual  restless  flux,  it  is  appointed  that  Sound ?  tc 
'appearance  the  most  fleeting,  should  be  the  most  continuing  of, 
'  all  things.  The  Word  is  well  said  to  be  omnipotent  in  thisi 
'world;  man,  thereby  divine,  can  create  as  by  &  Fiat.  Awake;, 
'  arise  !  Speak  forth  what  is  in  thee  ;  what  God  has  given  thee. 
'  what  the  Devil  shall  not  take  away.  Higher  task  than  that  of 
'  Priesthood  was  allotted  to  no  man  :  wert  thou  but  the  meanest' 
'  in  that  sacred  Hierarchy,  is  it  not  honour  enough  therein  to  spend! 
'  and  be  spent  1 

'  By  this  Art,  which  whoso  will  may  sacrilegiously  degrade  into 
'  a  handicraft,'  adds  Teufelsdrockh,  '  have  I  thenceforth  abidden. 
'  Writings  of  mine,  not  indeed  known  as  mine  (for  what  am  I?), 
'  have  fallen,  perhaps  not  altogether  void,  into  the  mighty  seed- 
'  field  of  Opinion  ;  fruits  of  my  unseen  sowing  gratifyingly  meet 
'  me  here  and  there.  I  thank  the  Heavens  that  I  have  now  found  i 
1  ffly  Calling  '■>  wherein,  with  or  without  perceptible  result,  I  am  i 
'  minded  diligently  to  persevere. 

'  Nay  how  knowest  thou,'  cries  he,  '  but  this  and  the  other  I 
'  pregnant  Device,  now  grown  to  be  a  world-renowned  far-work- 
'  ing  Institution;  like  a  grain  of  right  mustard-seed  once  castt 
'  into  the  right  soil,  and  now  stretching  out  strong  boughs  to  the 
'  four  winds,  for  the  birds  of  the  air  to  lodge  in, — may  have  been  ' 
'  properly  my  doing  ?  Some  one's  doing  it  without  doubt  was  ; 
'  from  some  Idea,  in  some  single  Head,  it  did  first  of  all  take  be- 
' ginning:  why  not  from  some  Idea  in  mine?'  Does  Teufels- 
drockh here  glance  at  that  '  Society  for  the  Conservation 
of  Property  (Eigenthwns-conservirende  Gesdlschqfl)}  of  which 
so  many  ambiguous  notices  glide  spectre-like  through  these  inex- 
pressible Paperbags  ?  '  An  Institution,'  hints  he,  '  not  unsuita- 
'  ble  to  the  wants  of  the  time  ;  as  indeed  such  sudden  extension 
'  proves  :  for  already  can  the  Society  number,  among  its  office- 
'  bearers  or  corresponding  members,  the  highest  Names,  if  not 
'  the  highest  Persons,  in  ( J  crmany,  England,  France  ;  and  con- 
1  tributions,  both  of  money  and  of  meditation,  pour  in  from  all 
'quarters;  to.  if  possible,  enlist  the  remaining  Integrity  of  the 


PAUSE.  155 


'world,  and,  defensively  and  with  forethought,  marshal  it  round 
'this  Palladium.'  Does  Teufelsdrockh  mean,  then,  to  give  him- 
self out  as  the  originator  of  that  so  notable  Eigent hums-come rri- 
rende  ('  Owndom-conscrving')  Gcsellschaft ;  and,  if  so,  what,  in  the 
Devil's  name,  is  it  %  He  again  hints  :  '  At  a  time  when  the  di- 
i  vine  Commandment,  Thou  shall  not  steal,  wherein  truly,  if  well 
'  understood,  is  comprised  the  whole  Hebrew  Decalogue,  with 
1  Solon's  and  Lycurgus's  Constitutions,  Justinian's  Pandects,  the 
'  Code  Napoleon,  and  all  Codes,  Catechisms,  Divinities,  Moral- 
'  ities  whatsoever,  that  man  has  hitherto  devised  (and  enforced 
'  with  Altar-fire  and  Gallows-ropes)  for  his  social  guidance  :  at  a 
'  time,  I  say,  when  this  divine  Commandment  has  all  but  faded 
[  away  from  the  general  remembrance  ;  and.  with  little  disguise, 
■  a  new  opposite  Commandment,  Thou  shall  steal,  is  everywhere 
'  promulgated, — it  perhaps  behoved  in  this  universal  dotage  and 
'  deliration  the  sound  portion  of  mankind  to  bestir  themselves 
'and  rally.  When  the  widest  and  wildest  violations  of  that  di- 
'  vine  right  of  Property,  the  only  divine  right  now  extant  or  con- 
\  ceivable,  are  sanctioned  and  recommended  by  a  vicious  Press,  ' 
'  and  the  world  has  lived  to  hear  it  asserted  that  we  have  no  Prop- 
'  erty  in  our  very  Bodies  but  only  an  accidental  Possession,  and  Life- 
c  rent,  what  is  the  issue  to  be  looked  for  1  Hangmen  and  Catch- 
'  poles  may,  by  their  noose-gins  and  baited  fall-traps,  keep  down 
'  the  smaller  sort  of  vermin  :  but  what,  except  perhaps  some  such 
'Universal  Association,  can  protect  us  against  whole  meat- 
i  devouring  and  man-devouring  hosts  of  Boa-constrictors  ?  If, 
'  therefore,  the  more  sequestered  Thinker  have  wondered,  in  his 
1  privacy,  from  what  hand  that  perhaps  not  ill-written  Program  in 
'  the  Public  Journals,  with  its  high  Prize- Questions  and  so  lib- 
1  era!  Prizes,  could  have  proceeded, — let  him  now  cease  such 
'  wonder  ;  and,  with  undivided  faculty,  betake  himself  to  the 
'  Concurrenz   (Competition).' 

We  ask  :  Has  this  same  '  perhaps  not  ill-written  Program,1  or 
any  other  authentic  Transaction  of  that  Property-conserving  So- 
ciety, fallen  under  the  eye  of  the  British  Reader,  in  any  Journal, 
foreign  or  domestic?  If  so,  what  are  those  Prize- Questions ; 
what  are  the  terms  of  Competition,  and  when  and  where  ?  No 
printed  Newspaper  leaf,  no  farther  light  of  any  sort,  to  be  met        + 


156  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 

with  in  these  Paperbags  !  Or  is  the  whole  business  one  other  of 
those  whimsicalities,  and  perverse  inexplicabilities,  whereby  Herr 
Teufelsdrockh,  meaning  much  or  nothing,  is  pleased  so  often  to 
play  fast  and  loose  with  us  1 

Here,  indeed,  at  length,  must  the  Editor  give  utterance  to  a 
painful  suspicion  which,  through  late  Chapters,  has  begun  to 
haunt  him  ;  paralysing  any  little  enthusiasm,  that  might  still 
have  rendered  his  thorny  Biographical  task  a  labour  of  love.  It 
is  a  suspicion  grounded  perhaps  on  trifles,  yet  confirmed  almost 
into  certainty  by  the  more  and  more  discernible  humoristico-sat- 
irical  tendency  of  Teufelsdrockh,  in  whom  underground  humours, 
and  intricate  sardonic  rogueries,  wheel  within  wheel,  defy  all 
reckoning  :  a  suspicion  in  one  word,  that  these  Autobiographical 
Documents  are  partly  a  mystification  !  What  if  many  a  so-called 
Fact  were  little  better  than  a  Fiction  ;  if  here  we  had  no  direct 
Camera-obscura  Picture  of  the  Professor's  History  ;  but  only 
some  more  or  less  fantastic  Adumbration,  symbolically,  perhaps 
significantly  enough,  shadowing  forth  the  same !  Our  theory  be- 
gins to  be  that,  in  receiving  as  literally  authentic  what  was  but 
hieroglyphically  so,  Hofrath  Heuschrecke,  whom  in  that  case  we 
scruple  not  to  name  Hofrath  Nose-of-Wax,  was  made  a  fool  of, 
and  set  adriffr  to  make  fools  of  others.  Could  it  be  expected,  in- 
deed, that  a  man  so  known  for  impenetrable  reticence  as  Teufels- 
drockh, would  all  at  once  frankly  unlock  his  private  citadel  to 
an  English  Editor  and  a  German  Hofrath  ;  and  not  rather  de- 
ceptively i/dock  both  Editor  and  Hofrath,  in  the  labyrinthic  tor- 
tuosities and  covered  ways  of  said  citadel  (having  enticed  them 
thither),  to  see,  in  his  half-devilish  way,  how  the  fools  would 
look? 

Of  one  fool,  however,  the  Herr  Professor  will  perhaps  find 
himself  short.  On  a  small  slip  formerly  thrown  aside  as  blank, 
the  ink  being  all  but  invisible,  we  lately  notice,  and  with  effort 
decipher,  the  following  :  '  What  are  your  historical  Facts  ;  still 
'  more  your  biographical  \  Wilt  thou  know  a  Man,  above  all,  a 
1  Mankind,  by  stringing  together  beadrolls  of  what  thou  namest 
'  Facts  ?  The  man  is  the  spirit  he  worked  in  ;  not  what  he  did, 
,  '  but  what  he  became.     Facts  are  engraved  Hierograms,  for  which 

\ 


PAUSE.  157 


j  the  fewest  have  the  key.  And  then  how  your  Blockhead  {Dumm- 
lkopf)  studies  not  their  Meaning  ;  but  simply  whether  they  are 
I  well  or  ill  cut,  what  he  calls  Moral  or  Immoral !  Still  worse  is 
*  it  with  your  Bungler  (Pfascher) :  such  I  have  seen  reading  some 
j  Rousseau,  with  pretences  of  interpretation ;  and  mistaking  the 
'  ill-cut  Serpent-of-Eternity  for  a  common  poisonous  Reptile.' 
Was  the  Professor  apprehensive  lest  an  Editor,  selected  as  the 
present  boasts  himself,  might  mistake  the  Teufelsdrockh  Serpent- 
of-Eternity  in  like  manner  ?  For  which  reason  it  was  to  be  al- 
tered, not  without  underhand  satire,  into  a  plainer  Symbol?  Or 
is  this  merely  one  of  his  half-sophisms,  half-truisms,  which  if  he 
can  but  set  on  the  back  of  a  Figure,  he  cares  not  whither  it  gal- 
lop ?  We  say  not  with  certainty  ;  and  indeed,  so  strange  is  the 
Professor,  can  never  say.  If  our  Suspicion  be  wholly  unfounded 
let  his  own  questionable  ways,  not  our  necessary  circumspectness, 
bear  the  blame. 

But  be  this  as  it  will,  the  somewhat  exasperated  and  indeed 
exhausted  Editor  determines  here  to  shut  these  Paperbags,  for 
the  present.  Let  it  suffice  that  we  know  of  Teufelsdrockh,  so  far, 
if  '  not  what  he  did,  yet  what  he  became  ;'  the  rather,  as  his  cha- 
racter has  now  taken  its  ultimate  bent,  and  no  new  revolution  of 
importance  is  to  be  looked  for.  The  imprisoned  Chrysalis  is  now 
a  winged  Psyche  :  and  such,  wheresoever  be  its  flight,  it  will  con- 
tinue. To  trace  by  what  complex  gyrations  (flights  or  involun- 
tary waftings)  through  the  mere  external  Life-element,  Teufels- 
drockh reaches  his  University  Professorship,  and  the  Psyche 
clothes  himself  in  civic  Titles,  without  altering  her  now  fixed 
nature, — would  be  comparatively  an  unproductive  task,  were  we 
even  unsuspicious  of  its  being,  for  us  at  least,  a  false  and  impossi- 
ble one.  His  outward  Biography,  therefore,  which,  at  the  Blu- 
mine  Lover's-Leap,  we  saw  churned  utterly  into  spray-vapour, 
may  hover  in  that  condition,  for  aught  that  concerns  us  here. 
Enough  that,  by  survey  of  certain  l  pools  and  plashes,'  we  have 
ascertained  its  general  direction  :  do  we  not  already  know  that, 
by  one  way  and  other,  it  has  long  since  rained  down  again  into  a 
stream ;  and  even  now,  at  Weissnichtwo,  flows  deep  and  still, 
fraught  with  the  Philosophy  of  Clothes,  and  visible  to  whoso  will 
cast  eye  thereon  ?     Over  much  invaluable  matter  that  lies  scat- 


158  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

tered,  like  jewels  among  quarry-rubbish,  in  those  Paper-catacombs, 
we  may  have  occasion  to  glance  back,  and  somewhat  will  demand 
insertion  at  the  right  place  :  meanwhile,  be  our  tiresome  diggings 
therein  suspended. 

If  now,  before  reopening  the  great  Clothes-  Volume,  we  ask  what 
our  degree  of  progress,  during  these  Ten  Chapters,  has  been, 
towards  right  understanding  of  the  Clothes-Philosophy,  let  not  our 
discouragement  become  total.  To  speak  in  that  old  figure  of  the 
Hell-gate  Bridge  over  Chaos,  a  few  flying  pontoons  have  perhaps 
been  added,  though  as  yet  they  drift  straggling  on  the  Flood  ;  how 
far  they  will  reach,  when  once  the  chains  are  straightened  and 
fastened,  can,  at  present,  only  be  matter  of  conjecture. 

So  much  we  already  calculate :  Through  many  a  little  loop- 
hole, we  have  had  glimpses  into  the  internal  world  of  Teufels- 
drockh ;  his  strange  mystic,  almost  magic  Diagram  of  the  Uni- 
verse, and  how  it  was  gradually  drawn,  is  not  henceforth  alto- 
gether dark  to  us.  Those  mysterious  ideas  on  Time,  which  merit 
consideration,  and  are  not  wholly  unintelligible  with  such,  may  by 
and  by  prove  significant.      Still  more  may  his  somewhat  peculiar 

•w  of  Nature ;  the  decisive  Oneness  he  ascribes  to  Nature. 
Mow  all  Nature  and  Life  are  but  one  Garment,  a  '  Living  (iar- 
ment,'  woven  and  ever  a-weaving  in  the  '  Loom  of  Time  ;'  is  not 
here,  indeed,  the  outline  of  a  whole  Clothes-Philosophy ;  at  least 
the  arena  it  is  to  work  inf)  Remark  too  that  the  Character  of  the 
man,  nowise  without  meaning  in  such  a  matter,  becomes  less 
enigmatic  :  amid  so  much  tumultuous  obscurity  almost  like  diluted 
madness,  do  not  a  certain  indomitable  Pefi.ijeg  and  yet  a  bound-, 
less  Reverence  seem  to  loom  forth,  as  the  two  mountain-summits, 
on  whose  rock-strata  all  the  rest  were  based  and  built  1 

Nay,  further,  may  we  not  say  that  Teufelsdrockh's  Biography, 
allowing  it  even,  as  suspected,  only  a  hieroglyphical  truth,  exhibits 
a  man  as  it  were  preappointed  for  Clothes-Philosophy  ?  To  look 
through  tlm  Shows  of  things  into  Things  themselves  he  is  led  and 
compelled.  \jThe  '  Passivity'  given  him  by  birth  is  fostered  by  all 
turns  of  his  fortune.  Everywhere  cast  out,  like  oil  out  of  water, 
from  mingling  in  any  Employment,  in  any  public  Communion,  he 
has  no  portion  but  Solitude  and  a  life  of  Meditation.  The  whole 
energy  of  his  existence  is  directed,  through  long  years,  on  one 


PAUSE.  159 


task ;  that  of  enduring  pain,  if  he  cannot  cure  it.  Thus  everywhere 
do  the  Shows  of  things  oppress  him.  withstand  him,  threaten  him 
with  fearfulest  destruction ;  only  by  victoriously  penetrating  into 
Things  themselves,  can  he  find  peace  and  a  stronghold.//'  But  is 
not  this  same  looking  through  the  Shows,  or  Vestures,  into  the 
Things,  even  the  first  preliminary  to  a  Philosophy  of  Clothes  ?  Do 
we  not,  in  all  this,  discern  some  beckonings  towards  the  true 
higher  purport  of  such  a  Philosophy ;  and  what  shape  it  must 
assume  with  such  a  man,  in  such  an  era? 

Perhaps  in  entering  on  Book  Third,  the  courteous  Reader  is 
not  utterly  without  guess  whither  he  is  bound  :  nor,  let  us  hope, 
for  all  the  fantastic  Dream-Grottoes  through  which,  as  is  our  lot 
with  Teufelsdrockh,  he  must  wander,  will  there  be  wanting  be- 
tween whiles  some  twinkling  of  a  steady  Polar  Star. 


BOOK    III. 


CHAPTER     I. 

INCIDENT    IN    MODERN    HISTORY. 

As  a  wonder-loving  and  wonder-seeking  man,  Teufelsdrockh, 
from  an  early  part  of  his  Clothes-Volume,  has  more  and  more  ex- 
hibited himself.  Striking  it  was,  amid  all  his  perverse  cloudi- 
ness, with  what  force  of  vision  and  of  heart  he  pierced  into  the 
mystery  of  the  World  :  recognising  in  the  highest  sensible  phe- 
nomena, so  far  as  Sense  went,  only  fresh  or  faded  Raiment :  yet 
ever,  under  this,  a  celestial  Essence  thereby  rendered  visible  ;  and 
while,  on  the  one  hand,  he  trod.  J;he  old  rags  of  Matter,  with 
their  tinsels,  into  the  mire,  he  on  the  other  everywhere  exalted 
Spirit  above  all  earthly  principalities  and  powers,  and  worshipped 
it,  though  under  the  meanest  shapes,  with  a  true  Platonic  Mys- 
ticism. What  the  man  ultimately  purposed  by  thus  casting  his 
Greek-fire  into  the  general  Wardrobe  of  the  Universe  ;  what 
such,  more  or  less  complete,  rending  and  burning  of  Garments 
throughout  the  whole  compass  of  Civilized  Life  and  Speculation, 
should  lead  to:  the  rather  as  he  was  no  Adamite,  in  any  sense, 
and  could  not,  like  Rousseau,  recommend  either  bodily  or  intel- 
lectual Nudity,  and  a  return  to  the  savage  state :  all  this  our 
readers  are  now  bent  to  discover :  this  is,  in  fact,  properly  the 
gist  and  purport  of  Professor  Teufelsdrockh's  Philosophy  of 
Clothes. 

Be  it  remembered,  however,  that  such  purport  is  here  not  so 
much  evolved  as  detected  to  lie  ready  for  evolving.  We  are  to 
guide  our  British  Friends  into  the  new  Gold-country,  and  shew 
them  the  mines ;  nowise  to  dig  out  and  exhaust  its  wealth,  which 
indeed  remains  for  all  time  inexhaustible.  Once  there,  let  each 
dig  for  his  own  behoof,  and  enrich  himself. 

Neither,  in  so  capricious  inexpressible  a  Work  as  this  of  the 
Professor's,  can  our  course  now  more  than  formerly  be  straight- 


164  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 

forward,  step  by  step,  but  at  best  leap  by  leap.  Significant  Indi 
cations  stand  out  here  and  there  ;  which  for  the  critical  eye,  that 
looks  both  widely  and  narrowly,  shape  themselves  into  some  '| 
ground-scheme  of  a  Whole :  to  select  these  with  judgment,  so 
that  a  leap  from  one  to  the  other  be  possible,  and  (in  our  old  ; 
figure)  by  chaining  them  together,  a  passable  Bridge  be  effected :  't 
this,  as  heretofore,  continues  our  only  method.  Among  such  ■ 
light-spots,  the  following,  floating  in  much  wild  matter  about  \ 
F  erf  edibility,  has  seemed  worth  clutching  at : 

'  Perhaps  the  most  remarkable  incident  in  Modern  History,'  [ 
says  Teufelsdrockh,  'is  not  the  Diet  of  Worms,  still  less  the 
1  Battle  of  Austerlitz,  Waterloo,  Peterloo,  or  any  other  Battle ; 
'  but  an  incident  passed  carelessly  over  by  most  Historians,  and 
1  treated  with  some  degree  of  ridicule  by  others.:  namely,  ^Qfgfc' 
'  Fox's  jnaking  to  himself  a  suit  of  Leather.  This  man,  the  first 
'  of  thejQuakers,  and  by  trade  a  Shoemaker,  was  one  of  those,  to  < 
'  whom,  under  ruder  or  purer  form,  the  Diviue  Idea  of  the  Uni- 
'  yerse  is  pleased  to  manifest  itself ;  and,  across  all  the  hulls  of 
'  Ignorance  and  earthly  Degradation,  shine  through,  in  unspeak- 
'  able  Awfulness,  unspeakable  Beauty,  on  their  souls  ;  who  there- 
1  fore  are  rightly  accounted  prophets,  God-possessed  ;  or  even  i 
'  Gods,  as  in  some  periods  it  has  chanced^  Sitting  in  his  stall ; 
f(  working  on  tanned  hides,  amid  pincers,  paste-horns,  rosin,  swine- 
'  bristles,  and  a  nameless  flood  of  rubbish,  this  youth  had  never- 
'  theless  a  Living  Spirit  belonging  to  him ;  also  an  antique  In- 
'  spired  Volume,  through  which,  as  through  a  window,  it  could 
1  look  upwards,  and  discern  its  celestial  Home.  The  task  of  a 
1  daily  pair  of  shoes,  coupled  even  with  some  prospect  of  victuals, 
'  and  an  honourable  Mastership  in  Cordwaincry,  and  perhaps  the 
'post  of  Thirdborough  in  his  Hundred,  as  the  crown  of  long 
'  faithful  sewing, — was  nowise  satisfaction  enough  to  such  a  mind: 
'  but  ever  amid  the  boring  and  hammering  came  tones  from  that 
'  far  country,  came  Splendours  and  Terrors  ;  for  this  poor  Cord- 
'  wainer,  as  we  said,  was  a  Man  ;  and  the  Temple  of  Immensity, 
'  wherein  as  Man  he  had  been  sent  to  minister,  was  full  of  holy 
'  mystery  to  him. 

'  The  Clergy  of  the  neighbourhood,  the  ordained  Watchers  and 
'  Interpreters  of  that  same  holy  mystery,  listened  with  unaffected 


INCIDENT  IN   MODERN  HISTORY.  165 

•  tedium  to  his  consultations,  and  advised  him,  as  the  solution  of 
such  doubts,  to  "  drink  beer,  and  dance  with  the  girls."     Blind 

■  leaders  of  the  blind  !  For  what  end  were  their  tithes  levied  and 
;  eaten  ;  for  what  were  their  shovel-hats  scooped  out,  and  their 
;  surplices  and  cassock-aprons  girt  on  ;  and  such  a  church-repair- 
1  ing,  and  chaffering,  and  organing,  and  other  racketing,  held 
'  over  that  spot  of  God's  Earth. — if  Man  were  but  a  Patent  Di- 
'  gester,  and  the  Belly  with  its  adjuncts  the  grand  Reality  ?    Fox 

•  turned-irom- them,  with  tears  and  a  sacred  scorn,  back  to  his 

•  Leather-parings  and   his  Bible.      Mountains  of  encumbrance, 

■  higher  than  JEtna,  had  been  heaped  over  that  Spirit :  but  it 
1  was  a  Spirit,  and  would  not  lie  buried  there.     Through  long 

■  days  and  nights  of  silent  agony,  it  struggladLand  wrestled,  with 
;  a  man's  force,  to„Jbe_£r££-:  how  its  prison-mountains  heaved  and 
'  swayed  tumultuously,  as  the  giant  spirit  shook  them  to  this 
'  hand  and  that,  and  emerged  into  the  light  of  Heaven !  __That 
!  Leicester  shoe-shop,  had  men  known  it,  was  a  holier  place  than 
'  any  Vatican  or  Loretto-shrine.-^"  So  bandaged,  and  hampered, 
'  and  hemmed  in."  groaned  he^ri  with  thousand  requisitions,  obli- 
'  gations,  straps,  tatters,  and  tagrags,  I  can  neither  see  nor  move  : 
i  not  my  own  am  I,  but  the  World's ;  and  Time  flies  fast,  and 
'  Heaven  is  high,  and  Hell  is  deep  :  Man !  bethink  thee,  if  thou 
'  hast  power  of  Thought !  Why  not ;  what  binds  me  here  ? 
!  Want,  want ! — Ha,  of  what  ?  Will  all  the  shoe-wages  under 
'  the  Moon  ferry  me  across  into  that  far  Land  of  Light  ?  Only 
'  Meditation  can,  and  devout  Prayer  to  God.  I  will  to  the  woods : 
'  the  hollow  of  a  tree  will  lodge  me,  wild  berries  feed  me ;  and  for 
\  Clothes,  cannot  I  stitch  myself  one  perennial  suit  of  Leather." 

'  Historical  Oil-painting,'  continues  Teufelsdrockh,  '  is  one  of 
'  the  Arts  I  never  practised  ;  therefore  shall  I  not  decide  whether    j 
'  this  subject  were  easy  of  execution  on  the  canvass.     Yet  often   j 
'  has  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  such  first  outflashing  of  man's  Free-  j 
'  will,  to  lighten,  more  and  more  into  Day,  the  Chaotic  Night  that 
'threatened  to  engulph  him  in  its  hindrances  and  its  horrors,  J 

•  were  properly  the  only  grandeur  there  is  in  History.     Let  some  | 
1  living  Angelo  or  Rosa,  with  seeing  eye  and  understanding  heart, 

c  picture  George  Fox  on  that  morning,  when  he  spreads  out  his 
'  cutting-board  for  the  last  time,  and  cuts  cow-hides  by  unwonted 


166  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

'patterns,  and  stitches  them  together  into  one  continuous  all- 
'  including  Case,  the  farewell  service  of  his  awl !  Stitch  away, 
1  thou  noble  Fox  :  every  prick  of  that  little  instrument  is  prick- 
'ing  into  the  heart  of  Slavery,  and  World-worship,  and  the  31am- 
'nion^od.  Thy  elbows  jerk,  as  in  strong  swimmer-strokes,  and 
'  every  stroke  is  bearing  thee  across  the  Prison-ditch,  within 
'  which  Vanity  holds  her  Workhouse  and  Ragfair,  into  lands  of 
1  true  liberty ;  were  the  work  done,  there  is  in  broad  Europe  one 

'  Free  Man,  and  thou  art  he  ! — 

'Thus  from  the  lowest  depth  there  is  a  path  to  the  loftiest 
'height^  and  for  the  Poor  also  a  Gospel  has  been  published. 
'  Surely,  if,  as  D' Alembert  asserts,  my  illustrious  namesake,  Dio- 
'  genes,  was  the  greatest  man  of  Antiquity,  only  that  he  wanted 
1  Decency,  then  by  stronger  reason  is  George  Fox  the  greatest  of 
'the  Moderns;  and  greater  than  Diogenes  himself:  for  he  too 
'  stands  on  the  adamantine  basis  of  his  Manhood,  casting  aside 
'  all  props  and  shoars ;  yet  not,  in  half-savage  Pride,  undervalu- 
'  ing  the  Earth  ;  valuing  it  rather,  as  a  place  to  yield  him  warmth 
'  and  food,  he  looks  Heavenward  from  his  Earth,  and  dwells  in  an 
'  element  of  Mercy  and  Worship,  with  a  still  Strength,  such  as 
'  the  Cynic's  Tub  did  nowise  witness.  Great,  truly,  was  that 
'  Tub  ;  a  temple  from  which  man's  dignity  and  divinity  was  scorn- 
'  fully  preached  abroad  ;  but  greater  is  the  Leather  Hull,  for  the 
'  same  sermon  was  preached  there,  and  not  in  Scorn  but  in  Love. 

George  Fox's  '  perennial  suit.'  with  all  that  it  held,  has  been 
worn  quite  into  ashes  for  nigh  two  centuries :  why,  in  a  discus- 
sion on  the  Perfectibility  of  Society,  reproduce  it  now  ?  Not  out 
of  blind  sectarian  partisanship  :  Teufelsdrockh  himself  is  no 
Quaker  ;  with  all  his  pacific  tendencies,  did  we  not  see  him,  in 
that  scene  at  the  North  Cape,  with  the  Archangel  Smuggler, 
exhibit  fire-arms  ? 

For  us,  aware  of  his  deep  Sansculottism,  there  is  more  meant 
in  this  passage  than  meets  the  ear.  At  the  same  time,  who  can 
avoid  smiling  at  the  earnestness  and  Boeotian  simplicity  (if  indeed 
there  be  not  an  underhand  satire  in  it),  with  which  that  •  Inci- 
dent' is  here  brought  forward  ;  and,  in  the  Professor's  ambiguous 
way,  as  clearly  perhaps  as  he  durst  in  Weissnichtwo,  recommended 


INCIDENT   IN  MODERN  HISTORY.  167 

to  imitation !  Does  Teufelsdrockh  anticipate  that,  in  this  age  of 
refinement,  any  considerable  class  of  the  community,  by  way  of 
testifying  against  the  '  Mammon-god,'  and  escaping  from  what  he 
calls  '  Vanity's  Workhouse  and  Ragfair,'  where  doubtless  some 
of  them  are  toiled  and  whipped  and  hoodwinked  sufficiently, — 
will  sheathe  themselves  in  close-fitting  cases  of  Leather  1  The 
idea  is  ridiculous  in  the  extreme.  Will  Majesty  lay  aside  its 
robes  of  state,  and  Beauty  its  frills  and  train-gowns,  for  a  second- 
skin  of  tanned  hide  1  By  which  change  Huddersfield  and  Man- 
chester, and  Coventry  and  Paisley,  and  the  Fancy-Bazaar,  were 
reduced  to  hungry  solitudes  ;  and  only  Day  and  Martin  could 
profit.  For  neither  would  Teufelsdrockh's  mad  daydream,  here 
as  we  presume  covertly  intended,  of  .levelling  Society,  {levelling  it 
indeed  with  a  vengeance,  into  one  huge  drowned  marsh  !),  and  so 
attaining  the  political  effects  of  Nudity  without  its  frigorific  or 
other  consequences, — be  thereby  realised.  Would  not  the  rich 
man  purchase  a  waterproof  suit  of  Russia  Leather  ;  and  the  high- 
born Belle  step  forth  in  red  or  azure  morocco,  lined  with  shamoy  ; 
the  black  cowhide  being  left  to  the  Drudges  and  Gibeonites  of 
the  world  ;  and  so  all  the  old  Distinctions  be  re-established? 

Or  has  the  Professor  his  own  deeper  intention  ;  and  laughs  iu 
his  sleeve  at  our  strictures  and  glosses,  which  indeed  are  but  a 
part  thereof? 


168  SARTOR  RES  ART  US. 


- 


CHAPTER    II 


CHURCH-CLOTHES. 


Not  less  questionable  is  his  Chapter  on  Church- Clothes,  which 
has  the  farther  distinction  of  being  the  shortest  in  the  Volume. 
We  here  translate  it  entire  : 

'  By  Church  Clothes,  it  need  not  be  premised,  that  I  mean 
'  infinitely  more  than  Cassocks  and  Surplices ;  and  do  not  at  all 
'mean  the  mere  haberdasher  Sunday  Clothes  that  men  go  to 
'  Church  in.  Far  from  it !  Church-Clothes  are,  in  our  vocabu- 
'  lary,  the  Forms,  the  Vestures,  under  which  men  have  at  various 
1  periods  embodied  and  represented  for  themselves  the  Religious 
1  Principle  ;  that  is  to  say,  invested  the  Divine  Idea  of  the  World 
*  with  a  sensible  and  practically  active  Body,  so  that  it  might 
'  dwell  among  them  as  a  living  and  life-giving  Word. 

1  These  are  unspeakably  the  most  important  of  all  tke,  vestures 
'  and  garnitures  of  Human  Existence.  They  are  first  spun  and 
'woven,  I  may  say,  by  that  wonder  of  wonders.  Society  :  for  it 
'  is  still  only  when  "  two  or  three  are  gathered  together"  that 
'  Religion,  spiritually  existent,  and  indeed  indestructible  however 
'latent,  in  each,  first  outwardly  manifests  itself  (as  with  "cloven 
'  tongues  of  fire"),  and  seeks  to  be  embodied  in  a  visible  Commu- 
'nion,  and  Church  Militant.  Mystical,  more  than  magical,  is 
'  that  Communing  of  Soul  with  Soul,  both  looking  heavenward  ; 
'  here  properly  Soul  first  speaks  with  Soul ;  for  only  in  looking 
'  heavenward,  take  it  in  what  sense  you  may,  not  in  looking  earth- 
'  ward,  does  what  we  can  call  Union,  mutual  Love,  Society,  begin 
'  to  be  possible.  How  true  is  that  of  Novalis  :  "  It  is  certain,  my 
'  Belief  gains  quite  infinitely  the  moment  I  can  convince  another 
'  mind  thereof!"  Gaze  thou  in  the  face  of  thy  Brother,  in  those 
'  eyes  where  plays  the  lambent  fire  of  Kindness,  or  in  those  where 
1  rages   the  lurid  conflagration  of  Anger ;  feel  how  thy  own  so 


CHURCH-CLOTHES.  169 


'  quiet  Soul  is  straightway  involuntarily  kindled  with  the  like, 
'  and  ye  blaze  and  reverberate  on  each  other,  till  it  is  all  one 
'  limitless  confluent  flame  (of  embracing  Love,  or  of  deadly-grap- 
'  pling  Hate)  ;  and  then  say  what  miraculous  virtue  goes  out  of 
'  man  into  man.     But  if  so,  through  all  the  thick-plied  hull  of 

*  our  Earthly  Life  ;  how  much  more  when  it  is  of  the  Divine  Life 
1  we  speak,  and  inmost  Me  is,  as  it  were,  brought  into  contact 
1  with  inmost  Me  ! 

'  Thus  was  it  that  I  said,  the  Church-Clothes  are  first  spun 
'  and  woven  by  Society  ;  outward  Religion  originates  by,  Society.,  n 
1  Sofiiftt.y  hftf-ftflffig,  pnpaiMp  ^.p.pHgmw.  Nay,  perhaps  every  con- 
!  ceivable  Society,  past  and  present,  may  well  be  figured  as  pro- 
'perly  and  wholly  a  Church,  in  one  or  other  of  these  three 
f  predicaments  :  an  audibly  preaching  and  prophesying   Church, 

*  which  is  the  best ;  second,  a  Church  that  struggles  to  preach 
;  and  prophesy,  but  cannot  as  yet,  till  its  Pentecost  come ;  and 
c  third  and  worst,  a  Church  gone  dumb  with  old  age,  or  which 
\  only  mumbles  delirium  prior  to  dissolution.      Whoso  fancies 

that  by  Church  is  here  meant  Chapterhouses  and  Cathedrals,  or 
1  by  preaching  and  prophesying,  mere  speech  and  chaunting,  let 
r  him,'    says   the   oracular   Professor,  '  read   on,   light   of  heart 
(getroste/i  Muthes). 

i  But  with  regard  to  your   Church  proper,  and  the  Church- 
Clothes  specially  recognised  as  Church-Clothes,  I  remark,  fear- 
lessly enough,  that  without  such  Vestures  and  sacred  Tissues 
Society  has  not  existed,  and  will  not  exist.     For  if  Government 
{ is,  so  to  speak,  the  outward  skin  of  the  Body  Politic,  holding  the 

*  whole  together  and  protecting  it:  and  all  your  Craft-Guilds, 
[  and  Associations  for  Industry,  of  hand  or  of  head,  are'  the 
'  Fleshly  Clothes,  the  muscular  and  osseous  Tissues,  (lying  widen 

<■  such  skin),  whereby  Society  stands  and  works  ; — then  ^JRelu.i 
'  gion  the  inmost  Pericardial  and  Nervous  Tissue,  which  ministers 
[  Life  and  warm  Circulation  to  the  whole.  Without  which 
1  Pericardial  Tissue  the  Bones  and  Muscles  (of  Industry)  were 
[  inert,  or  animated  only  by  a  Galvanic  vitality  ;  the  skin  would 
c  become  a  shrivelled  pelt,  or  fast-rotting  raw-hide  ;  and  Society.. 

*  itself  a  dead  carcass, — deserving  to  be  buried.  Men  were  no 
'longer  Social,  but  Gregarious  ;  which  latter  state  also  could  not 

9 


170  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

1  continue,  but  must  gradually  issue  in  universal  selfish  discord, 
'  hatred,  savage  isolation,  and  dispersion  : — whereby,  as  we  might 
'  continue  to  say,  the  very  dust  and  dead  body  of  Society  would 
'  have  evaporated  and  become  abolished.  Such,  and  so  all-impor- 
'  tant,  all-sustaining,  are  the  Church-Clothes,  to  civilised  or  even 
'  to  rational  man. 

•  Meanwhile,  in  qiit  era  of  the  World,  those  same  Church- 
c  Clothes  have  gone  sorrowfully  out  at  elbows  :  nay,  far  worse, 
'  many  of  them  have  become  mere  hollow  Shapes,  or  Masks, 
'under  which  no  living  Figure  or  Spirit  any  longer  duetts -;-  -but_ 
'  only  spiders  and  unclean  beetles,  in  horrid  accumulation,  drive 
'  their  trade  ;  and  the  Mask  still  glares  on  you  with  its  glass-eyes, 
t  in  ghastly  affectation  of  Life, — some  generation  and  half  after 
'  Religion  has  quite  withdrawn  from  it,  and  in  unnoticed  nooks 
'  is  weaving  for  herself  new  Vestures,  wherewith  to  reappear,  and 
'  bless  us,  or  our  sons  or  grandsons.  As  a  Priest,  or  Interpreter 
'  of  the  Holy,  is  the  noblest  and  highest  of  all  men,  so  is  a  Sham- 
'  priest  (Schchi-priestci)  the  falsest  and  basest:  neither  is  it  doubt-  v 
'  ful  that  his  Canonicals,  were  they  Popes'  Tiaras,  will  one  day  - 
1  be  torn  from  him,  to  make  bandages  for  the  wounds  of  man- 
•  kind  ;  or  even  to  burn  into  tinder,  for  general  scientific  or 
'  culinary  purposes. 

'  All  which,  as  out  of  place  here,  falls  to  be  handled  in  my 
'  Second  Volume,  On  the  Palingmesia,  or  Newbirth  of  Sot  id y  ; 
'  which  volume,  as  treating  practically  of  the  Wear.  Destruction, 
'  and  Be  texture  of  Spiritual  Tissues,  or  Garments,  forms,  pro- 
'  perly  speaking,  the  Transcendental  or  ultimate  Portion  of  this 
'  my  Work  on  Clothes,  and  is  already  in  a  state  of  forwardness.' 

And  herewith,  no  farther  exposition,  note,  or  commentary  be- 
ing added,  does  Teufelsdrockh.  and  must  his  Editor  now,  termi- 
nate the  singular  chapter  on  Church-Clothes  ! 


SYMBOLS.  171 


CHAPTER    III. 

SYMBOLS. 

Probably  it  will  elucidate  the  drift  of  these  foregoing  obscure 
utterances,  if  we  here  insert  somewhat  of  our  Professor's  specu- 
lations on  Symbols.  To  state  his  whole  doctrine,  indeed,  were 
beyond  our  compass  :  nowhere  is  he  more  mysterious,  impalpable, 
than  m  this  of  '  Fantasy  being  the  organ  of  the  Grodlike ;'  and 
how  'iJMan  thereby,  though  based,  to  all  seeming,  on  the  small 
'  Visible,  does  nevertheless  extend  down  into  the  infinite  deeps  of 
'  the  Invisible,  of  which  Invisible,  indeed,  his  Life  is  properly  the 
'^bodying  forth.'  Let  us,  omitting  these  high  transcendental  as- 
pects of  the  matter,  study  to  glean  (whether  from  the  Paperbags 
or  the  Printed  Volume)  what  little  seems  logical  and  practical, 
and  cunningly  arrange  it  into  such  degree  of  coherence  as  it  will 
assume.  By  way  of  proem,  take  the  following  not  injudicious 
remarks  : 

'  The  benignant  efficacies  of  Concealment,'  cries  our  Professor, 
'who  shall  speak  or  sing?  Silence  and  Secrecy!  Altars 
'  might  still  be  raised  to  them  (were  this  an  altar-building  time) 
'for  universal  worship.  Silence  is  the  element  in  which  great 
f  things  fashion  themselves  together  ;  that  at  length  they  may 
'emerge,  full-formed .  and  majestic,  into  the  daylight  of  Life, 
'which  they  are  thenceforth  to  rule.  Not  William  the  Silent 
'only,  but  all  the  considerable  men  I  have  known,  and  the  most 
'  undiplomatic  and  unstrategic  of  these,  forbore  to  babble  of  what 
'they  were  creating  and  projecting.  Nay^m  thy  own  mean  per- 
'plexities,  do  thou  thyself  but  hold  thy  tongue  for  one  day  :  on  the 
•morrow,  how  much  clearer  are  thy  purposes,  and  duties;  what 
'  wreck  and  rubbish  have  those  mute  workmen  within  thee  swept 
'  away,  when  intrusive  noises  were  shut  out !  Speech  is  too  often 
'  not,  as  the  Frenchman  defined  it,  the  art  of  concealing  Thought ; 


172  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

1  but  of  quite  stifling  and  suspending  Thought,  so  that  there  is 
'  none  to  conceal.  Speech  too  is  great,  but  not  the  greatest.  As 
'  the  Swiss  Inscription  says :  Sprechen  ist  silbern,  Schiceigen  ist 
'golden  (Speech  is  silvern,  Silence  is  golden):  or  as  I  might 
'  rather  express  it :  Speech  is  of  Time,  Silence  is  of  Eternity. 
'  Bees  will  not  work  except  in  darkness  ;  Thought  will  not  work 

*  except  in  Silence  :  neither  wi-11  Virtue  work  except  in  Secrecy. 
1  Let  not  thy  right  hand  know  what  thy  left  hand  doeth  !  Neither 
1  shalt  thou  prate  even  to  thy  own  heart  of  "  those  secrets  known 
'to  all."  Is  not  Shame  the  soil  of  all  Virtue,  of  all  good  man- 
'  ners,  and  good  morals  ?  Like  other  plants,  Virtue  will  not  groiv 
'  unless  its  root  be  hidden,  buried  from  the  eye  of  the  sun.  Let 
'  the  sun  shine  on  it,  nay,  do  but  look  at  it  privily  thyself,  the 
'  root  withers,  and  no  flower  will  glad  thee.  O  my  Friends,  when 
1  we  view  the  fair  clustering  flowers  that  .over-wreathe,  for  exam- 
1  pie,  the  Marriage-bower,  and  encircle  man's  life  with  the  fra- 
'  grance  and  hues  of  Heaven,  what  hand  will  not  smite  the  foul 
'  plunderer  that  grubs  them  up  by  the  roots,  and.  with  grinning, 
'  grunting  satisfaction,  shews  us  the  dung  they  flourish  in  !  Men 
'  speak  much  of  the  Printing  Press  with  its  Newspapers  :  du  Him- 
'  met !  what  are  these  to  Clothes  and  the  Tailor's  Goose  V 

'  Of  kin  to  the  so  incalculable  influences  of  Concealment,  and 
'  connected  with  still  greater  things,  is  the  wondrous  agency  of 
'Symbols.  In  a  Symbol  there  is  concealment  and  yet  revelation: 
'  here,  therefore,  by'  Silence  and  by  Speech  acting  together,  comes 
1  a  doubled  significance.  And  if  both  the  Speech  be  itself  high, 
'  and  the  Silence  fit  and  noble,  how  expressive  will  their  union 
'  be  !  Thus  in  many  a  painted  Device,  or  simple  Seal-emblem, 
^  the  commonest  Truth  stands  out  to  us  proclaimed  with  quite 
'  new  emphasis. 

'  For  it  is  here  that  Fantasy  with  her  mystic  wonderland  plays 
1  into  the  small  prose  domain  of  Sense,  and  becomes  incorporated 
'  therewith.  In  the  Symbol  proper,  what  we  can  call  a  Symbol, 
'  there  is  ever,  more  or  less  distinctly  and  directly,  some  embodi- 
'mjgnt  and  revelation  of  the  Infinite;  the  Infinite  is  made  to 
'  blend   itself  with  the    Finite,  to  stand  visible,  and  as  it  were,  at- " 

•  tainable  there.  By  Symbols,  accordingly,  is  man  guided  and 
'  commanded,  made  happy,  made  wretched.     He  everywhere  finds 


SYMBOLS.  173 


1  himself  encompassed  with  Symbols,  recognised  as  such  or  not 
'  recognised  :  the  .Universe  is  but  one  vast  Symbol  of  God  ;  nay, 
'  if  thou  wilt  have  it,  what  is  man  himself  but  a  Symbol  of  God ; 
1  is  not  all  that  he  does  symbolical ;  a  revelation  to  Sense  of  the 
'  mystic  god-given  Force  that  is  in  him  ;  a  "  Gospel  of  Freedom," 
'  which  he,  the  "  Messias  of  Nature,"  preaches,  as  he  can,  by  act 
'  and  word  ?  Not  a  Hut  he  builds  but  is  the  visible  embodi- 
4  ment  of  a  Thought ;  but  bears  visible  record  of  invisible  things  ; 
'  but  is,  in  the  transcendental  sense,  symbolical  as  well  as  real.' 

'  Man,'  says  the  Professor  elsewhere,  in  quite  antipodal  con- 
trast with  these  high-soaring  delineations,  which  we  have  here  cut 
short  on  the  verge  of  the  inane,  '  man  is  by  birth  somewhat  of 
'  an  owl.  Perhaps,  too,  of  all  the  owleries  that  ever  possessed 
'  him,  the  most  owlish,  if  we  consider  it,  is  that  of  your  actually 
1  existing  Motive-Millwrights.  Fantastic  tricks  enough  has  man 
1  played,  in  his  time ;  has  fancied  himself  to  be  most  things,  down 
'  even  to  an  animated  heap  of  Glass :  but  to  fancy  himself  a  dead 
'  Iron-Balance  for  weighing  Pains  and  Pleasures  on,  was  reserved 
'  for  this  his  latter  era.  There  stands  he,  his  Universe  one  huge 
1  Manger,  filled  with  hay  and  thistles  to  be  weighed  against  each 
1  other  ;  and  looks  long-eared  enough.  Alas,  poor  devil !  spectres 
'  are  appointed  to  haunt  him  :  one  age,  he  is  hagridden,  be- 
'  witched  ;  the  next,  priestridden,  befooled  ;  in  all  ages,  bedevil- 
1  led.»  And  now  the  Genius  of  Mechanism  smothers  him  worse 
'  than  any  Nightmare  did ;  till  the  Soul  is  nigh  choked  out  of 
'  liirn^  and  only  a  kind  of  Digestive,  Mechanic  life  remains.  In 
'  Earth  and  in  Heaven  he  can  see  nothing  but  Mechanism  ;  has 
'  fear  for  nothing  else,  hope  in  nothing  else  :  the  world  would  in- 
'  deed  grind  him  to  pieces  ;  but  cannot  he  fathom  the  Doctrine 
'-  of  Motives,  and  cunningly  compute  these,  and  mechanise  them 
1  to  grind  the  other  way  ? 

1  Were  he  not,  as  has  been  said,  purblinded  by  enchantment, 
1  you  had  but  to  bid  him  open  his  eyes  and  look.  In  which  coun- 
'  try,  in  which  time,  was  it  hitherto  that  man's  history,  or  the  his- 
'  tory  of  any  man,  went  on  by  calculated  or  calculable  "  Motives  2" 
'  What  make  ye  of  your  Christianities,  and  Chivalries,  and  Re- 
1  formations,  and  Marseillese  Hymns,  and  Reigns  of  Terror  1 
'  Nay,  has  not  perhaps,  the  Motive-grinder  himself  been  in  Love  ? 


174  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

*  Did  he  never  stand  so  much  as  a  contested  Election  ?  Leave 
'  him  to  Time,  and  the  medicating  virtue  of  Nature.' 

'  Yes,  Friends,'  elsewhere  observes  the  Professor,  '  not  our  Lo-^ 
1  gical,  Mensurative  faculty,  but  our  Imaginative  one  is  King  over 
1  us ;  I  might  say,  Priest  and  Prophet  to  lead  us  heavenward  ; 

*  or  Magician  and  Wizard  to  lead  us  hellward.  Nay,  even  for 
1  the  basest  Sensualist,  what  is  Sense  but  the  implement  of  Fan- 
1  tasy  ;  the  vessel  it  drinks  out  of?  Ever  in  the  dullest  exist- 
'  ence,  there  is  a  sheen  either  of  Inspiration  or  of  Madness  (thou 
i  partly  hast  it  in  thy  choice,  which  of  the  two)  that  gleams  in 
1  from  the  circumambient  Eternity,  and  colours  with  its  own  hues 
1  our  little  islet  of  Time.  The  Understanding  is  indeed  thy  win- 
1  dow,  too  clear  thou  canst  not  make  it ;  but  Fantasy  is  thy  eye, 
1  with  its  colour-giving  retina,  healthy  or  diseased./t*iftave  not  I 
1  myself  known  five  hundred  living  soldiers  sabred  into  crows' 
1  meat,  for  a  piece  of  glazed  cotton,  which  they  called  their  Flag ; 
1  which,  had  you  sold  it  at  any  market-cross,  would  not  have 
1  brought  above  three  groschen  1  Did  not  the  whole  Hungarian 
4  Nation  rise,  like  some  tumultuous  moon-stirred  Atlantic,  when 
4  Kaiser  Joseph  pocketed  their  Iron  Crown ;  an  implement,  as 
4  was  sagaciously  observed,  in  size  and  commercial  value,  little 
1  differing  from  a  horse-shoe  ?  It  is  in  and  through  Symbols  that 
4  man,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  lives,  works,  and  has  his  be- 
'  ing  :  those  ages,  moreover,  are  accounted  the  noblest  which  can 
1  the  best  recognise  symbolical  worth,  and  prize  it  the  highest. 
1  For  is  not  a  Symbol  ever,  to  him  who  has  eyes  for  it,  some  dim- 
1  mer  or  clearer  revelation  of  the  Godlike  ? 

1  Of  Symbols,  however,  I  remark  farther,  that  they  have  both  an 
1  extrinsic  and  intrinsic  value;  oftenest  the  former  only.     What, 

*  for  instance,  was  in  that  clouted  Shoe,  which  the  peasants  bore 
'  aloft  with  them  as  ensign  in  their  Bauernkrieg  (Peasants'  War)  I 
1  Or  in  the  Wallet-and-staflf  round  which  the  Netherland  GucuXj 
1  glorying  in  that  nickname  of  Beggars,  heroically  rallied  and 
L  prevailed,  though  against  King  Philip  himself?  Intrinsic  sig- 
1  nificancc  these  had  none:  only  extrinsic  ;  as  the  accidental  Stan- 
1  dards  of  multitudes  more  or  less  sacredly  uniting  together  ;  in 
'  which  union  itself,  as  above  noted,  there  is  ever  something  mys- 
'  tical  and  borrowing  of  the  Godlike.     Under  a  like  category  too, 


SYMBOLS.  175 


I  stand,  or  stood,  the  stupidest  heraldic  Coats-of-arms  ;  military 
f  Banners  everywhere  ;  and  generally  all  national  or  other  secta- 
1  rian  Costumes  and  Customs  :  they  have  no  intrinsic,  necessary 
1  clivineness,  or  even  worth  ;  but  have  acquired  an  extrinsic  one. 
'  Nevertheless  through  all  these  there  glimmers  something  of  a 
'  Divine  Idea  ;  as  through  military  Banners  themselves,  the  Di- 
'  vine  Idea  of  Duty,  of  heroic  Daring  ;  in  some  instances  of 
1  Freedom,  of  Bight.  Nay,  the  highest  ensign  that  men  ever 
(  met  and  embraced  under,  the  Cross  itself,  had  no  meaning  save 
'  an  accidental  extrinsic  one. 

1  Another  matter  it  is,  however,  when  your  Symbol  has  intrin- 
'  sic  meaning,  and  is  of  itself  fit  that  men  should  unite  round  it. 
1  Let  but  the  Godlike  manifest  itself  to  Sense  ;  let  but  Eternity 
'  look,  more  or  less  visibly,  through  the  Time-figure  (Zeitbild) ! 
'  Then  is  it  fit  that  men  unite  there  ;  and  worship  together  before 
'  such  Symbol ;  and  so  from  day  to  day,  and  from  age  to  age,  su- 
'  peradd  to  it  new  divineness. 

1  Of  this  latter  sort  are  all  true  Works  of  Art :  in  them  (if  thou 
c  know  a  Work  of  Art  from  a  Daub  of  Artifice)  wilt  thou  discern 
'  Eternity  looking  through  Time ;  the  Godlike  rendered  visible. 
'  Here  too  may  an  extrinsic  value  gradually  superadd  itself:  thus 
'  certain  Iliads,  and  the  like,  have,  in  three  thousand  years,  attained 
'  quite  new  significance.  But  nobler  than  all  in  this  kind  are  the 
1  Lives  of  heroic  god-inspired  Men  ;  for  what  other  Work  of  Art  is 
'  so  divine  %  In  Death  too,  in  the  Death  of  the  Just,  as  the  last 
'  perfection  of  a  Work  of  Art,  may  we  not  discern  symbolic  mean- 
1  ing  ?  In  that  divinely  transfigured  Sleep,  as  of  Victory,  resting 
'  over  the  beloved  face  which  now  knows  thee  no  more,  read  (if 
'  thou  canst  for  tears)  the  confluence  of  Time  with  Eternity,  and 
'  some  gleam  of  the  latter  peering  through. 

'  Highest  of  all  Symbols  are  those  wherein  the  Artist  or  Poet 
'  has  risen  into  Prophet,  and  all  men  can  recognise  a  present  God, 
'  and  worship  the  same  :  ^J^ean__£eligious_  Symbols.  Various 
'enough  have  been  such  religious  Symbols,  what  we  call  jRcli- 
' gions;&s  men  stood  in  this  stage  of  culture  or  the  other,  and 
1  could  worse  or  better  body  forth  the  Godlike ;  some__Symbols 
'  with  a  transient  intrinsic  worth ;  many  with  only  an  extrinsic. 
'  If  thou  ask  to  what  height  man  has  carried  it  in  this  manner, 


176  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

'  look  on  our  divinest  Symbol :  on  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  and  his  Life, 
'  and  his  Biography,  and  what  followed  therefrom.  Higher  has 
4  the  human  Thought  not  yet  reached  :  this  is  Christianity,  and 
'Christendom;  a  Symbol  of  quite  perennial,  infinite  character; 
'  whose  significance  will  ever  demand  to  be  anew  inquired  into, 
'  and  anew  made  manifest. 

'  But,  on  the  whole,  as  Time  adds  much  to  the  sacredness  of 
'  Symbols,  so  likewise  in  his  progress  he  at  length  defaces,  or  even 
'  desecrates  them;  and  Symbols,  like  all  terrestrial  Garments,  wax 
'  old.  Homer's  Epos  has  not  ceased  to  be  true ;  yet  it  is  no 
'  longer  our  Epos,  but  shines  in  the  distance,  if  clearer  and  clearer, 
1  yet  also  smaller  and  smaller,  like  a  receding  Star.  It  needs  a 
'  scientific  telescope,  it  needs  to  be  reinterpreted  and  artificially 
'  brought  near  us,  before  we  can  so  much  as  know  that  it  was  a 
i  Sun.  So  likewise  a  day  comes  when  the  ftunic  Thor,  with  his 
'  Eddas,  must  withdraw  into  dimness ;  and  many  an  African 
'-Mumbo-Junibo,  and  Indian  Pawaw  be  utterly  abolished.  For 
'  all  things,  even  Celestial  Luminaries,  much  more  atmospheric 
'  meteors,  have  their  rise,  their  culmination,  their  decline.' 

'  Small  is  this  which  thou  tellest  me,  that  the  Royal  Sceptre  is 
'  but  a  piece  of  gilt  wood  ;  that  the  Pyx  has  become  a  most  foolish 
'  box,  and  truly,  as  Ancient  Pistol  thought,  "  of  little  price."  A 
'  right  Conjuror  might  I  name  thee,  couldst  thou  conjure  back 
'  into  these  wooden  tools  the  divine  virtue  they  once  held.' 

1  Of  this  thing,  however,  be  certain  :  wouldst  thou  plant  for 
(  Eternity,  then  plant  into  the  deep  infinite  faculties  of  man,  his 
'  Fantasy  and  Heart :  wouldst  thou  plant  for  Year  and  Day,  then 
*  plant  into  his  shallow  superficial  faculties,  his  Self-love  and 
'  Arithmetical  Understanding,  what  will  grow  there.  A  Hierarch, 
'  therefore,  and  Pontiff  of  the  World  will  we  call  him,  the  Poet 
'and  inspired  Maker;  who,  Prometheus-like,  can  shape  new  Sym- 
'  bols,  and  bring  new  Fire  from  Heaven  to  fix  it  there.  Such  too 
'will  not  always  be  wanting  ;  neither  perhaps  now  are.  Mean- 
'  while  as  the  average  of  matter  goes,  we  account  him  Legislator 
'  and  wise  who  can  so  much  as  tell  when  a  Symbol  lias  grown  old, 
'  and  gently  remove  it, 

'  When,  as  the  last  English  Coronation*  was  preparing,'  con 
*  That  of  George  IV.— Ed. 


SYMBOLS.  177 


eludes  this  wonderful  Professor,  '  I  read  in  their  Newspapers 
{ that  the  "  Champion  of  England,"  he  who  has  to  offer  battle  to 
'  the  Universe  for  his  new  King,  had  brought  it  so  far  that  he 
(  could  now  "  mount  his  horse  with  little  assistance,"  I  said  to 
'  myself :  Here  also  we  have  a  Symbol  well  nigh  superannuated. 
'  Alas,  move  whithersoever  you  may,  are  not  the  tatters  and  rags 
*  of  superannuated  worn-out  Symbols  (in  this  Ragfair  of  a  World)  I 
1  dropping  off  everywhere,  to  hoodwink,  to  halter,  to  tether  you ; 
;  nay,  if  you  shake  them  not  aside,  threatening  to  accumulate,  and  \ 
1  perhaps  produce  suffocation.' 

•  9* 


>       0*  THE 

DIVERSITY' 


178  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

HELOTAGE. 

At  this  point  we  determine  on  adverting  shortly,  or  rather 
reverting,  to  a  certain  Tract  of  Hofrath  Heuschreclfe's,  entitled 
Institute  for  the  Repression  of  Population;  which  lies,  dishonourably 
enough  (with  torn  leaves,  and  a  perceptible  smell  of  aloetio 
drugs),  stuffed  into  the  Bag  Pisces.  Not  indeed  for  the  sake  of 
the  Tract  itself,  which  we  admire  little  ;  but  of  the  marginal 
Notes,  evidently  in  Teufelsdrockh's  hand,  which  rather  copiously 
fringe  it.     A  few  of  these  may  be  in  the  right  place  here. 

Into  the  Hofrath's  Institute,  with  its  extraordinary  schemes, 
and  machinery  of  Corresponding  Boards  and  the  like,  we  shall 
not  so  much  as  glance.  Enough  for  us  to  understand  that  Heu- 
schrecke  is  a  disciple  of  Malthus ;  and  so  zealous  for  the  doctrine, 
that  his  zeal  almost  literally  eats  him  up.  A  deadly  fear  of 
Population  possesses  the  Hofrath  ;  something  like  a  fixed-idea ; 
undoubtedly  akin  to  the  more  diluted  forms  of  Madness.  No- 
where, in  that  quarter  of  his  intellectual  world,  is  there  light ; 
nothing  but  a  grim  shadow  of  Hunger;  open  mouths  opening 
wider  and  wider ;  a  world  to  terminate  by  the  frightfulest  consum- 
mation ;  by  its  too  dense  inhabitants,  famished  into  delirium, 
universally  eating  one  another.  To  make  air  for  himself  in  which 
strangulation,  choking  enough  to  a  benevolent  heart,  the  Hofrath 
founds,  or  proposes  to  found,  this  Institute  of  his,  as  the  best  he 
can  do.  It  is  only  with  our  Professor's  comments  thereon  that 
we  concern  ourselves. 

First,  then,  remark  that  Teufelsdrockh,  as  a  speculative  Radi- 
cal, has  his  own  notions  about  human  dignity ;  that  the  Zahdarm 
palaces  and  courtesies  have  not  made  him  forgetful  of  the  Futteral 
cottages.  On  the  blank  cover  of  Heuschrecke's  Tract,  we  find  the 
following  indistinctly  engrossed  : 


HELOTAGE.  179 


1  Two  men  I  honour,  and  no  third.  First.  tie_±£dlwprn  Crafts- 
•  man  that  with  earth-made  Implement  laboriously  conquers  the 
t  Earth,  and  makes  her  man's.  Venerable  to  me  is  the  hard 
1  Hand  ;  crooked,  coarse  ;  wherein  notwithstanding  lies  a  cunning 
'  virtue,  indefeasibly  royal,  as  of  the  Sceptre  of  this  Planet.  Ven- 
1  erable  too  is  the  rugged  face,  all  weather-tanned,  besoiled,  with 
'  its  rude  intelligence  :  for  it  is  the  face  of  a  Man  living  manlike. 
1  Oh,  but  the  more  venerable  for  thy  rudeness,  and  even  because 
1  we  must  pity  as  well  as  love  thee  !  Hardly-entreated  Brother  ! 
(  For  us  was  thy  back  so  bent,  for  us  were  thy  straight  limbs  and 
'  fingers  so  deformed  :  thou  wert  our  Conscript,  on  whom  the  lot 
'  fell,  and  fighting  our  battles  wert  so  marred.  For  in  thee  too 
1  lay  a  god-created  Form,  but  it  was  not  to  be  unfolded ;  encrust- 
'  ed  must  it  stand  with  the  thick  adhesions  and  defacements  of 
'  Labour  ;  and  thy  body,  like  thy  soul,  was  not  to  know  freedom. 
'  Yet  toil  on,  toil  on  :  thou  art  in  thy  duty,  be  out  of  it  who  may ; 
1  thou  toilest  for  the  altogether  indispensable,  for  daily  bread. 

'  A  second  man  I  honour,  and  still  more  highly  :  Him  who  is 
'  seen  toiling  for  the  spiritually  indispensable  ;  not  daily  bread, 
'  but  the  Bread  of  Life.  Is  not  he  too  in  his  duty  ;  endeavour- 
'  ing  towards  inward  Harmony  ;  revealing  this  by  act,  or  by  word, 
1  through  all  his  outward  endeavours,  be  they  high  or  low  ?  High- 
1  est  of  all,  when  his  outward  and  his  inward  endeavour  are  one  : 
'  when  we  can  name  him  Artist :  not  earthly  Craftsman  only,  but 
'  inspired  Thinker,  who  with  heaven-made  Implement  conquers 
'  Heaven  for  us  !  If  the  poor  and  humble  toil  that  we  have  Food, 
'  must  not  the  high  and  glorious  toil  for  him  in  return,  that  he 
'  have  Light,  have  Guidance,  Freedom,  Immortality  1 — These  two, 
1  in  all  their  degrees,  I  honour :  all  else  is  chaff  and  dust,  which 
'  let  the  wind  blow  whither  it  listeth. 

'  Unspeakably  touching  is  it,  however,  when  I  find  both  digni- 
'  ties  united  :  and  he  that  must  toil  outwardly  for  the  lowest  of 
1  man's  wants,  is  also  toiling  inwardly  for  the  highest.  Sublimer 
'  in  this  world  know  I  nothing  than  a  Peasant  Saint,  could  such 
1  now  any  where  be  met  with.  Such  a  one  will  take  thee  back  to 
'  Nazareth  itself;  thou  wilt  see  the  splendour  of  Heaven  spring 
'  forth  from  the  humblest  depths  of  Earth,  like  a  light  shining  in 
'  great  darkness.' 


ISO  SARTOR  RE3ARTUS. 

And  again :  '  It  is  not  because  of  his  toils  that  I  lament  for 
'  the  poor :  we  must  all  toil,  or  steal  (howsoever  we  name  our 
'  stealing),  which  is  worse  :  no  faithful  workman  finds  his  task  a 
'  pastime.  The  poor  is  hungry  and  athirst :  but  for  him  also 
'  there  is  food  and  drink  :  he  is  heavy-laden  and  weary  ;  but  for 
'  him  also  the  Heavens  send  Sleep,  and  of  the  deepest :  in  his 
'  smoky  cribs,  a  clear  dewy  heaven  of  Rest  envelopes  him,  and  fit- 
'  ful  glitterings  of  cloud-skirted  Dreams.  But  what  I  do. mourn 
'  over  is,  that  the  lamp  of  his  soul  should  go  out ;  that  no  ray  of 
1  heavenly,  or  even  of  earthly  knowledge,  should  visit  him  :  but 
(  only,  in  the  haggard  darkness,  like  two  spectres,  Fear  and  In- 
4  dignation  bear  him  company.  Alas,  while  the  Bodjr  stands  so 
'  broad  and  brawny,  must  the  Soul  lie  blinded,  dwarfed,  stupified, 
'  almost  annihilated  !  Alas,  was  this  too  a  Breath  of  God  ;  be- 
towed  in  Heaven,  but  on  earth  never  to  be  unfolded  ! — That 
there  should  one  Man  die  Ignorant  who  had  capacity  for  Know- 
ledge, this  I  call  a  tragedyifwere  it  to  happen  more  than  twenty 
'  times  in  the  minute,  as  by  some  computations  it  does.      The  mis- 

*  erable  fraction  of  Science  which  our  united  Mankind,  in  a  wide 
'  Universe  of  Nescience,  has  acquired,  why  is  not  this,  with  all 
1  diligence,  imparted  to  all  V 

Quite  in  an  opposite  strain  is  the  following  :  '  Tbe  old  Spartans 
c  had  a  wiser  method  ;  and  went  out  and  hunted  down  their  He- 
'  lots,  and  speared  and  spitted  them,  when  they  grew  too  nunier- 
'  ous.  With  our  improved  fashions  of  hunting,  Herr  Hofrath, 
'  now  after  the  invention  of  fire-arms,  and  standing  armies,  how 
'  much  easier  were  such  a  hunt !  Perhaps  in  the  most  thickly- 
1  peopled  country,  some  three  days  annually  might  suffice  to 
'  shoot  all  the  able-bodied  ,  Paupers  that  had  accumulated  within 
1  the  year.  Let  Governments  think  of  this.  The  expense  were 
'  trifling  :  nay,  the  very  carcasses  would  pay  it.  Have  them  salt- 
'  ed  and  barrelled  ;  could  not  you  victual  therewith,  if  not  Army 
1  and  Navy,  yet  richly  such  infirm  Paupers,  in  workhouses  and 
£  elsewhere,  as   enlightened   Charity,  dreading  no   evil  of  them, 

*  might  see  good  to  keep  alive  V 

'  And  yet,'  writes  he  farther  on,  '  there  must  be  something 
'  wrong.  A  full-formed  Horse  will,  in  any  market,  bring  from 
'  twenty  to  as  high  as  two  hundred  Friedrichs  d'or :  such  is  his 


HELOTAGE.  181 

Y  worth  to  the  world.  A  full-formed  Man  is  not  only  worth  no- 
£  thing  to  the  world,  but  the  world  could  afford  him  a  round  sum 
!  would  he  simply  engage  to  go  and  hang  himself.  Nevertheless, 
'  which  of  the  two  was  the  more  cunningly-devised  article,  even  as 
'  an  Engine  ?  Good  Heavens  !  A  white  European  Man,  stand- 
'  ing  on  his  two  Legs,  with  his  two  five-fingered  Hands  at  his 
1  shackle-bones,  and  miraculous  Head  on  his  shoulders,  is  worth, 
'  I  should  say,  from  fifty  to  a  hundred  Horses !' 

'  True,  thou  Gold-Hofrath,'  cries  the  Professor  elsewhere  :  '  too 
'  crowded  indeed  !  Meanwhile,  what  portion  of  this  inconsidera- 
'  ble  terraqueous  Globe  have  ye  actually  tilled  and  delved,  till  it 
'  will  grow  no  more  %  How  thick  stands  your  Population  in  the 
f  Pampas  and  Savannas  of  America  ;  round  ancient  Carthage,  and 
*  in  the  interior  of  Africa ;  on  both  slopes  of  the  Altaic  chain,  in 
i  the  central  Platform  of  Asia  ;  in  Spain,  Greece,  Turkey,  Crim 
'  Tartary,  the  Curragh  of  Kildare  ?  One  man,  in  one  year,  as  I 
1  have  understood  it,  if  you  lend  him  Earth,  will  feed  himself  and 
'  nine  others.  Alas,  where  now  are  the  Hengsts  and  Alarics  of 
'  our  still  glowing,  still  expanding  Europe  ;  who,  when  their  home 
'  is  grown  too  narrow,  will  enlist  and,  like  Fire-pillars,  guide  on- 
'  wards  those  superfluous  masses  of  indomitable  living  Valour  ; 
'  equipped,  not  now  with  the  battle-axe  and  war-chariot,  but  with 
'  the  steam-engine  and  ploughshare  ?  Where  are  they  ? — Pre- 
'  serving  their  Game !' 


182  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 


CHAPTER    V. 


THE    PHCENIX. 


Putting  which  four  singular  Chapters  together,  and  alongside 
of  them  numerous  hints,  and  even  direct  utterances,  scattered 
over  these  Writings  of  his,  we  come  upon  the  startling  yet  not 
quite  unlooked-for  conclusion,  that  Teufelsdrockh  is  one  of  those 
vim  consider  Society,  properly  so  called,  to  be  as  good  as  extinct; 
and  that  only  the  Gregarious  feelings,  and  old  inherited  habi- 
tudes, at  this  juncture,  hold  us  from  Dispersion,  and  universal 
I  national,  civil,  domestic  and  personal  war !  He  says  expressly : 
'  For  the  last  three  centuries,  above  all,  for  the  last  three  quarters 
'  of  a  century,  that  same  Pericardial  Nervous  Tissue  (as  we  named 
'  it)  of  Religion,  where  lies  the  Life-essence  of  Society,  has  been 
'  smote  at  and  perforated,  needfully  and  needlessly  ;  till  now  it  is 
'  quite  rent  into  shreds  ;  and  Society^  long  pining,  diabetic,  con- 
1  sumptive,  can  be  regarded  as  defunct :  for  those  spasmodic,  gal- 
'  vanic  sprawlings  are  not  life  ;  neither  indeed  will  they  endure, 
'  galvanise  as  you  may,  beyond  two  days.' 

'  Call  ye  that  a  Society,'  cries  he  again,  '  where  tbere.-is_J02_ 
'  longer  any  Social  Idea  extant ;  not  so  much  as  the  Idea  of  a 
'  common  Home,  but  only  of  a  common,  over-crowded  Lodging- 
'  house  ?     Where  each,   isolated,    regardless   of    his   neighbour, 
'  turned  against  his  neighbour,  clutches  what  he  can  get,  and  cries  3 
'  "  Mine !"  and  calls  it  Peace,  because,  in  the  cut-purse  and  cut-  • 
'  throat  Scramble,  no  steel  knives,  but  only  a  far  cunninger  sort,  , 
1  can  be  employed  ?     Where  Friendship,  Communion,  has  become  • 
1  an  incredible  tradition  ;  and  your  holiest  Sacramental  Supper  is  « 
'  a  smoking  Tavern  Dinner,  with   Cook  for  Evangelist  ?     Where  ' 
1  your  Priest  has  no  tongue  but  for  plate-licking :  and  your  high  t 
1  Guides  and  Governors  cannot  guide  ;  but  on  all  hands  hear  it  ; 
*  passionately  proclaimed :  Laissez  faire  ;  Leave  us  alone  of  your ■• 


THE  PHCENIX.  183 


1  guidance,  such   light  is  darker  than   darkness  ;  eat  you  your 

*  wages,  and  sleep  ! 

'  Thus,  too,'  continues  he,  '  does  an  observant  eye  discern  every- 
1  where  that  saddest  spectacle  :  The  Poor  perishing,  like  neglect- 
1  ed,  foundered  Draught-Cattle,  of  Hunger  and  Overwork ;  the 
'Rich,  still  more  wretchedly,  of  Idleness,  Satiety,  and  Over- 
'  growth.     The  Highest  in  rank,  at  length,  without  honour  from 

*  the  Lowest ;  scarcely,  with  a  little  mouth-honour,  as  from  tavern- 
1  waiters  who  expect  to  put  it  in  the  bill.  Once  sacred  Symbols 
'fluttering  as  empty  Pageants,  whereof  men  grudge  even  the 
'  expense ;  a  World  becoming  dismantled :  in  one  word,  the 
'  Church  fallen  speechless,  from  obesity  and  apoplexy ;  the 
'  State  shrunken  into  a  Police-Office,  straitened  to  get  its  pay!' 

"We  might  ask,  are  there  many  '  observant  eyes,'  belonging  to 
Practical  men,  in  England  or  elsewhere,  which  have  descried 
these  phenomena ;  or  is  it  only  from  the  mystic  elevation  of  a 
German  Wahngasse  that  such  wonders  are  visible?  Teufels- 
drockh  contends  that  the  aspect  of  a  '  deceased  or  expiring 
Society'  fronts  us  everywhere,  so  that  whoso  runs  may  read. 
'  What,  for  example,'  says  he,  '  is  the  universally-arrogated  Vir- 
c  tue,  almost  the  sole  remaining  Catholic  Virtue,  of  these  days  ? 
'  For  some  half  century,  it  has  been  the  thing  you  name,  "  Inde- 
'jpendence."  Suspicion  of  "  Servility,"  of  reverence  for  Superiors 
'  the  very  dogleech  is  anxious  to  disavow.  Fools  !  Were  your 
'  Superiors  worthy  to  govern,  and  you  worthy  to  obey,  reverence 
'  for  them  were  even  your  only  possible  freedom.  Independence, 
'  in  all  kinds,  is  rebellion  ;  if  unjust  rebellion,  why  parade  it,  and 
'  everywhere  prescribe  it  V  - 

But  what  then  ?  Are  we  returning,  as  Rousseau  prayed,  to 
the  state  of  Nature  ?  '  The  Soul  Politic  having  departed,'  says 
Teufelsdrockh,  '  what  can  follow  but  that  the  Body  Politic  be 
'decently  interred,  to  avoid  putrescence?  Liberals,  Economists, 
1  Utilitarians  enough  I  see  marching  with  its  bier,  and  chaunting 
'  loud  paeans,  towards  the  funeral-pile,  where,  amid  wailings  from 
'  some,  and  saturnalian  revelries  from  the  most,  the  venerable 
'  Corpse  is  to  be  burnt.  Or,  in  plain  words,  that  these  men, 
'  Liberals,  Utilitarians,  or  whatsoever  they  are  called,  will  ulti- 
'  mately  carry  their  point,  and  dissever  and  destroy  most  existing 


?- 


1S4  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

1  Institutions  of  Society,  seems  a  thing  which  has  some  time  ago 
'  ceased  to  be  doubtful. 

1  Do  we  not  see  a  little  subdivision  of  the  grand  Utilitarian 
1  Armament  come  to  light  even  in  insulated  England  ?  A  living 
'  nucleus,  that  will  attract  and  grow,  does  at  length  appear  there 
'  also  ;  and  under  curious  phasis  ;  properly  as  the  inconsiderable 
1  fag-end,  and  so  far  in  the  rear  of  the  others  as  to  fancy  itself  the 
'  van.  Our  European  Mechanisers  are  a  sect  of  boundless  diffu- 
'sion,  activity,  and  cooperative  spirit:  has  not  Utilitarianism 
'  nourished  in  high  places  of  Thought,  here  among  ourselves,  and 
'  in  every  European  country,  at  some  time  or  other,  within  the 
'  last  fifty  years  ?     If  now  in  all  countries,  except  perhaps  Eng- 

*  land,  it  has  ceased  to  flourish,  or  indeed  to  exist,  among  Think- 
'  ers,  and  sunk  to  Journalists  and  the  popular  mass, — who  sees 
'  not  that,  as  hereby  it  no  longer  preaches,  so  the  reason  is,  it  now 
'  needs  no  Preaching,  but  is  in  full  universal  Action,  the  doctrine 
'  everywhere  known,  and  enthusiastically  laid  to  heart  ?  The  fit 
'  pabulum,  in  these  times,  for  a  certain  rugged  workshop-intellect 
1  and  heart,  nowise  without  their  corresponding  workshop-strength 
'  and  ferocity,  it  requires  but  to  be  stated  in  such  scenes  to  make 
'proselytes  enough. — Admirably  calculated  for  destroying,  only 
'  not  for  rebuilding !  It  spreads  like  a  sort  of  Dog-madness  ;  till 
1  the  whole  World-kennel  will  be  rabid  :  then  woe  to  the  Hunts- 
'  men,  with  or  without  their  whips !  They  should  have  given  the 
'  quadrupeds  water,'  adds  he  ;  '  the  water,  namely,  of  Knowledge 
'  and  of  Life,  while  it  was  yet  time.' 

Thus,  if  Professor  Teufelsdrockh  can  be  relied  on,  we  are  at 
this  hour  in  a  most  critical  condition  ;  beleaguered  by  that 
boundless  '  Armament  of  Mechanisers'  and  Unbelievers,  threaten- 
ing to  strip  us  bare !  '  The  World,'  says  he,  '  as  it  needs  must,  is 
'  under  a  process  of  devastation  and  waste,  which,  whether  by 
'  silent  assiduous  corrosion,  or  open  quicker   combustion,  as  the 

*  case  chances,  will  effectually  enough  annihilate  the  past  Forms 
'  of  Society  ;  replace  them  with  what  it  may.  For  the  present, 
'  it  is  contemplated  that  when  man's  whole  Spiritual  Interests  are 
'  once  divested,  these  innumerable  stript-off  Garments  shall  mostly 
'be  burnt;  but  the  sounder  Kags  among  them  be  quilted  toge- 
'ther  into  one   huge    Irish   watch-coat  for    the   defence  of  the 


THE   PHCENIX.  185 


Body  only !' — This,  we  think,  is  but  Job's  news  to  the  humane 
reader. 

'  Nevertheless,'  cries  Teufelsdrockh,  '  who  can  hinder  it ;  who 
'  is  there  that  can  clutch  into  the  wheel-spokes  of  Destiny,  and 
1  say  to  the  Spirit  of  the  Time  :  Turn  back,  I  command  thee  ? — ■ 
*  Wiser  were  it  that  we  yielded  to  the  Inevitable  and  Inexorable, 
1  and  accounted  even  this  the  best.' 

Nay,  might  not  an  attentive  Editor,  drawing  his  own  infer- 
ences from  what  stands  written,  conjecture  that  Teufelsdrockh 
individually  had  yielded  to  this  same  '  Inevitable  and  Inexorable' 
heartily  enough  ;  and  now  sat  waiting  the  issue,  with  his  natural 
diabolico-angelical  Indifference,  if  not  even  Placidity  ?  Did  we  \ 
not  hear  him  complain  that  the  World  was  a  '  huge  Ragfair,'  and 
the  '  rags  and  tatters  of  old  Symbols'  were  raining  down  every- 
where, like  to  drift  him  in,  and  suffocate  him  %  What  with  those 
\  unhunted  Helots'  of  his  ;  and  the  uneven  sic-vos-noii-vobis  pres- 
sure, and  hard-crashing  collision  he  is  pleased  to  discern  in  ex- 
isting things ;  what  with  the  so  hateful  '  empty  Masks,'  full  of 
beetles  and  spiders,  yet  glaring  out  on  him,  from  their  glass-eyes, 
'with  a  ghastly  affectation  of  life,' — we  feel  entitled  to  conclude 
him  even  willing  that  much  should  be  thrown  to  the  Devil,  so  it 
were  but  done  gently  !  Safe  himself  in  that  '  Pinnacle  of  Weiss- 
nichtwo,'  he  would  consent,  with  a  tragic  solemnity,  that  the 
monster1  UTTLITARIA,  held  back,  indeed,  and  moderated  by 
nose -rings,  halters,  foot-shackles,  and  every  conceivable  modifica- 
tion of  rope,  should  go  forth  to  do  her  work ; — to  tread  down  old 
ruinous  Palaces  and  Temples,  with  her  broad  hoof,  till  the  whole 
were  trodden  down,  that  new  and  better  might  be  built !  Re- 
markable in  this  point  of  view  are  the  following  sentences. 

'  Society,'  says  he,  '  is  not  dead :  that  Carcass,  which  you  call 
1  dead  Society,  is  but  her  mortal  coil  which  she  has  shuffled  off,  to 
1  assume  a  nobler  j  she  herself,  through  perpetual  metamorphoses, 
'  in  fairer  and  fairer  development,  has  to  live  till  Time  also  merge 
'  in  Eternity.  Wheresoever  two  or  three  Living  Men  are  ga- 
1  thered  together,  there  is  Society  ;  or  there  it  will  be,  with  its  cun- 
'  ning  mechanisms  and  stupendous  structures,  overspreading  this 
'  little  Grlobe,  and  reaching  upwards  to  Heaven  and  downwards 
I  to  Gehenna :  for  always,  under  one  or  the  other  figure  it  has 


( " 


186  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

'  two  authentic  Revelations,  of  a  God  and  of  a  Devil ;   the  Pul 
i  pit,  namely,  and  the  Gallows.' 

Indeed,  we  already  heard  him  speak  of '  Religion,  in  unnoticed  ji 
nooks,  weaving  for  herself  new  Vestures ;' — Teufelsdrockh  him-  i 
self  being  one  of  the  loom-treadles  ?  Elsewhere  he  quotes  with-  \ 
out  censure  that  strange  aphorism  of  Saint-Simon's,  concerning  : 
which  and  whom  so  much  were  to  be  said  :   l  L'agc  d'or,  qu'une 

/|  aveugle  tradition  a  place  jusqtiici  dans  le  passe,  est  decant  nous; 
'  The  golden  age,  which  a  blind  tradition  has  hitherto  placed  in. 
1  the  Past,  is  Before  us.' — But  listen  again  : 

When  the  Phoenix  is  fanning  her  funeral  pyre,  will  there  not  J 
be  sparks  flying !     Alas,  some  millions  of  men,  and  among  them 
1  such  as  a  Napoleon,  have  already  been  licked  into  that  high- 
'  eddying  Flame,  and  like  moths  consumed  there.     Still  also  have  (, 
(  we  to  fear  that  incautious  beards  will  get  singed. 

'  For  the  rest,  in  what  year  of  grace  such  Phoenix-cremation  will 
1  be  completed,  you  need  not  ask.     The  law  of  Perseverance  is 
1  among  the  deepest  in  man  :  by  nature  he  hates  change  ;  seldojj 
'will  he  quit  his  old  house  till  it  has  actually  fallen  about  his 
4  ears.    Thus  have  I  seen  Solemnities  linger  as  Ceremonies,  sacred  i 
|  Symbols  as  idle  Pageants,  to  the  extent  of  three  hundred  years  > 
'  and  more  after  all  life  and  sacredness  had  evaporated  out  of : 
'  them.     And  then,  finally,  what  time  the  Phoenix  Death-Birth 
'•  itself  will   require,  depends  on  unseen   contingencies. — Mean- 
'  while,  would  Destiny  offer  Mankind  that  after,  say  two  centuries 
'  of  convulsion  and  conflagration,  more  or  less  vivid,  the  fire-crea- 
1  tion  should  be  accomplished,  and  we  find  ourselves  again  in  a, 
'  Living  Society,  and  no  longer  fighting  but  working, —  were  it  not 
'■perhaps  prudent  in  Mankind  to  strike  the  bargain  V 

Thus  is  Teufelsdrockh  content  that  old  sick  Society  should  be  l 
deliberately  burnt  (alas !  with  quite  other  fuel  than  spice-wood) ," 
in  the  faith  that  she  is  a  Phoenix;  and  that  a  new  heavenborn 
young  one  will  rise  out  of  her  ashes  !     We  ourselves,  restricted  ' 
to  the  duty  of  Indicator  shall  forbear  commentary.     Meanwhile, 
will  not  the  judicious  reader  shake  his  head,  and  reproachfully, 
yet  more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger,  say  or  think :  From  a  Doctm 
viriusqm  Juris,  titular  Professor  in  a  University,  and  man  to  whom  i 
hitherto,  for  his  services,  Society,  bad  as  she  is,  has  given  not 


III! 


THE  PHCENIX.  187 


only  food  and  raiment  (of  a  kind)  but  books,  tobacco  and  guk- 
guk,  we  expected  more  gratitude  to  his  benefactress  ;  and  less  of 
a  blind  trust  in  the  future,  which  resembles  that  rather  of  a  phi- 
losophical Fatalist  and  Enthusiast,  than  of  a  solid  householder 
paying  scot  and  lot  in  a  Christian  country. 


188  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


CHAPTER    VI 


OLD    CLOTHES. 


As  mentioned  above,  Teufelsdrockh,  though  a  Sansculottist,  is 
in  practice  probably  the  politest  man  extant :  his  whole  heart  and 
life  are  penetrated  and  informed  with  the  spirit  of  Politeness :  a 
noble  natural  Courtesy  shines  through  him,  beautifying  his  va- 
garies :  like  sun-light,  making  a  rosy-fingered,  rainbow-dyed 
Aurora  out  of  mere  aqueous  clouds ;  nay,  brightening  London- 
smoke  itself  into  gold  vapour,  as  from  the  crucible  of  an  alche- 
mist. Hear  in  what  earnest  though  fantastic  wise  he  expresses 
himself  on  this  head  : 

'  Shall  Courtesy  be  done  only  to  the  rich,  and  only  by  the  rich? 
'  In  Good-breeding,  which  differs,  if  at  all,  from  High-breeding, 
'only  as  it  gracefully  remembers  the  rights  of  others,  rather  than 
'  gracefully  insists  on  its  own  rights,  I  discern  no  special  connex- 
'  ion  with  wealth  or  birth  :  but  rather  that  it  lies  in  human  nature 
'  itself,  and  is  due  from  all  men  towards  all  men.  Of  a  truth,  were 
'  your  Schoolmaster  at  his  post,  and  worth  any  thing  when  there, 
'  this,  with  so  much  else,  would  be  reformed.  Nay,  each  man  were 
1  then  also  his  neighbour's  schoolmaster ;  till  at  length  a  rude*- 
c  visaged,  unmannered  Peasant  could  no  more  be  met  with,  than 
'  a  Peasant  unacquainted  with  botanical  Physiology,  or  who  felt 
'  not  that  the  clod  he  broke  was  created  in  Heaven. 

'  For  whether  thou  bear  a  sceptre  or  a  sledge-hammer,  art  thou 
c  not  alive  ;  is  not  this  thy  brother,  alive  2  "  There  is  but  one 
'  Temple  in  the  world,"  says  Novalis,  n  and  that  Temple  is  the 
'  Body  of  Man.  Nothing  is  holier  than  this  high  Form.  Bending 
'  before  men  is  a  reverence  done  to  this  Revelation  in  the  Flesh. 
•  We  touch  Heaven,  when  we  lay  our  hands  on  a  human  Body." 

'  On  which  ground,  I  would  fain  carry  it  farther  than  most  do ; 
'  and  whereas  the  English  Johnson  only  bowed  to  every  Clergy- 


OLD   CLOTHES.  189 


man,  or  man  with  a  shovel-hat,  I  would  bow  to  every  Man  witf| 
:anv_sprt  of  hat,  or  with  no  hat  whatever.  Is  he  not  a  Temple, 
then ;  the  visible  Manifestation  and  Impersonation  of  the  Di- 
vinity ?  And  jet,  alas,  such  indiscriminate  bowing  serves  not. 
For  there  is  a  Devil  dwells  in  man,  as  well  as  a  Divinity  ;  and 
too  often  the  bow  is  but  pocketed  by  the  former.  It  would  go  to 
the  pocket  of  Vanity  (which  is  your  clearest  phasis  of  the  Devil, 
'  in  these  times)  ;  therefore  must  we  withhold  it. 

'  The  gladder  am  I,  on  the  other  hand,  to  do  reverence  to  those 
Shells  and  outer  Husks  of  the  Body,  wherein  no  devilish  passion 
'  any  longer  lodges,  but  only  the  pure  emblem  and  effigies  of  Man  : 
I  mean,  to  Empty,  or  even  to  Cast  Clothes.     Nay,  is  it  not  to 
Clothes  that  most  men  do  reverence :  to  the  fine  frogged  broad- 
cloth, nowise  to  the  "  straddling  animal  with  bandy  legs"  which 
it   holds,   and    makes   a   Dignitary   of?     Who   ever   saw   any 
Lord  my-lorded   in   tattered   blanket,   fastened    with    wooden 
skewer  1     Nevertheless,  I  say,  there  is  in  such  worship  a  shade  of 
hypocrisy,  a  practical  deception  :  for  how  often  does  the  Body 
appropriate  what  was  meant  for  the  Cloth  only !     Whoso  would 
avoid  Falsehood,  which  is  the  essence  of  all  Sin,  will  perhaps  see 
1  good  to  take  a  different  course..     That  reverence  which  cannot 
'  act  without  obstruction  and  perversion  when  the  Clothes  are  full, 
'  may  have  free  course  when  they  are  empty.     Even  as,  for  Hindoo 
'  Worshippers,  the  Pagoda  is  not  less  sacred  than  the  God  ;  so  do 
'  I  too  worship  the  hollow  cloth  Garment  with  equal  fervour,  as 
'  when  it  contained  the  Man  ;  nay,  with  more,  for  I  now  fear  no 
1  deception,  of  myself  or  of  others. 

'  Did  not  King  Toomtabard,  or,  in  other  words,  John  Balliol, 
1  reign  long  over  Scotland  ;  the  man  John  Balliol  being  quite 
'gone,  and  only  the  "  Toom  Tabard"  (Empty  Gown)  remaining'? 
'  What  still  dignity  dwells  in  a  suit  of  Cast  Clothes !  How 
'  meekly  it  bears  its  honours  !  No  haughty  looks,  no  scornful 
1  gesture  :  silent  and  serene,  it  fronts  the  world  ;  neither  demand- 
'  ing  worship,  nor  afraid  to  miss  it.  The  Hat  still  carries  the 
1  physiognomy  of  its  Head  :  but  the  vanity  and  the  stupidity,  and 
'  goose-speech  which  was  the  sign  of  these  two,  are  gone.  The 
'  Coat-arm  is  stretched  out,  but  not  to  strike ;  the  Breeches,  in 
*  modest  simplicity,  depend  at  ease,  and  now  at  last  have  a  grace- 


190  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

'  ful  flow  ;  the  Waistcoat  hides  no  evil  passion,  no  riotous  desire ; 
'  hunger  or  thirst  now  dwells  not  in  it.  Thus  all  is  purged  from 
'  the  grossness  of  sense,  from  the  carking  cares  and  foul  vices  of 
'  the  World :  and  rides  there,  on  its  Clothes-horse ;  as,  on  a  Pe- 
'gasus,  might  some  skyey  Messenger,  or  purified  Apparition, 
'  visiting  our  low  Earth. 

1  Often,  while  I  sojourned  in  that  monstrous  tuberosity  of 
1  Civilized  Life,  the  Capital  of  England  ;  and  meditated,  and 
'  questioned  Destiny,  under  that  ink-sea  of  vapour,  black,  thick, 
1  and  multifarious  as  Spartan  broth  ;  and  was  one  lone  Soul  amid 
'  those  grinding  millions  ; — often  have  I  turned  into  their  Old- 
'  Clothes  Market  to  worship.  With  awe-struck  heart  I  walk 
1  through  that  Monmouth  Street,  with  its  empty  Suits,  as  through 
'  a  Sanhedrim  of  stainless  Ghosts.  Silent  are  they,  but  expres- 
1  sive  in  their  silence :  the  past  witnesses  and  instruments  of 
1  Woe  and  Joy,  of  Passions,  Virtues,  Crimes,  and  all  the  fathom- 
1  less  tumult  of  Good  and  Evil  in  "  the  Prison  men  call  Life." 
'  Friends !  trust  not  the  heart  of  that  man  for  whom  old  Clothes 
'  are  not  venerable.  Watch,  too,  with  reverence,  that  bearded 
1  Jewish  Highpriest,  who  with  hoarse  voice,  like  some  Angel  of 
'  Doom,  summons  them  from  the  four  winds  !  On  his  head,  like 
1  the  Pope,  he  has  three  Hats, — a  real  triple  tiara ;  on  either 
'  hand,  are  the  similitude  of  wings,  whereon  the  summoned  Gar- 
'  ments  come  to  alight ;  and  ever,  as  he  slowly  cleaves  the  air, 
1  sounds  forth  his  deep  fearful  note,  as  if  through  a  trumpet  he 
1  were  proclaiming :  "  Ghosts  of  Life,  come  to  Judgment !"  Reck 
'  not,  ye  fluttering  Ghosts  he  will  purify  you  in  his  Purgatory, 
'  with  fire  and  with  water  ;  and,  one  day,  new-created  ye  shall 
'  reappear.  Oh  !  let  him  in  whom  the  flame  of  Devotion  is  ready 
'  to  go  out,  who  has  never  worshipped,  and  knows  not  what  to 
'  worship,  pace  and  repace,  with  austerest  thought,  the  pavement 
'  of  Monmouth  Street,  and  say  whether  his  heart  and  his  eves 
'  still  continue  dry.  If  Field  Lane,  with  its  long  fluttering  rows 
'of  yellow  handkerchiefs,  be  a  Dionysius'  Ear,  where,  in  stifled 
'jarring  hubbub,  we  hear  the  Indictment  which  Poverty  and 
'  Vice  bring  against  lazy  Wealth,  that  it  has  left  them  there  cast 
'  out  and  trodden  under  foot  of  Want,  Darkness,  and  the  Devil, — 
'then  is  Monmouth   Street  a   Mirza?s  Hill,  where,  in  motley 


OLD   CLOTHES.  191 


£  vision,  the  whole  Pageant  of  Existence  passes  awfully  before 
'  us  ;  with  its  wail  and  jubilee,  mad  loves  and  mad  hatreds, 
1  church-bells  and  gallows-ropes,  farce-tragedy,  beast-godhood, — 
'  the  Bedlam  of  Creation  !' 


To  most  men,  as  it  does  to  ourselves,  all  this  will  seem  over- 
charged. We  too  have  walked  through  Monmouth  Street ;  but 
with  little  feeling  of  '  Devotion  :'  probably  in  part  because  the 
contemplative  process  is  so  fatally  broken  in  upon  by  the  brood 
of  money-changers,  who  nestle  in  that  Church,  and  importune  the 
worshipper  with  merely  secular  proposals.  Whereas  Teufels- 
drockh  might  be  in  that  happy  middle-state,  which  leaves  to  the 
Clothes-broker  no  hope  either  of  sale  or  of  purchase,  and  so  be 
allowed  to  linger  there  without  molestation. — Something  we 
would  have  given  to  see  the  little  philosophical  figure,  with  its 
steeple-hat  and  loose  flowing  skirts,  and  eyes  in  a  fine  frenzy, 
1  pacing  and  repacing  in  austerest  thought'  that  foolish  Street ; 
which  to  him  was  a  true  Delphic  avenue,  and  supernatural  Whis- 
pering gallery,  where  the  '  Ghosts  of  Life'  rounded  strange 
secrets  in  his  ear.  0  thou  philosophic  Teufelsdrockh,  that  lis- 
ten est  while  others  only  gabble,  and  with  thy  quick  tympanum 
nearest  the  grass  grow  ! 

At  the  same  time  is  it  not  strange  that,  in  Paperbag  Docu- 
ments destined  for  an  English  Work,  there  exists  nothing  like 
an  authentic  diary  of  this  his  sojourn  in  London  :  and  of  his 
Meditations  among  the  Clothes-shops  only  the  obscurest  em- 
blematic shadows  ?  Neither,  in  conversation  (for,  indeed,  he  was 
not  a  man  to  pester  you  with  his  Travels),  have  we  heard  him 
more  than  allude  to  the  subject. 

For  the  rest,  however,  it  cannot  be  uninteresting  that  we  here 
find  how  early  the  significance  of  Clothes  had  dawned  on  the  now 
so  distinguished  Clothes-Professor.  Might  we  but  fancy  it  to 
have  been  even  in  Monmouth  Street,  at  the  bottom  of  our  own 
English  '  ink-sea,'  that  this  remarkable  Volume  first  took  being, 
and  shot  forth  its  salient  point  in  his  soul, — as  in  Chaos  did  the 
Egg  of  Eros,  one  day  to  be  hatched  into  a  Universe  ! 

6 


192  SARTOR   RESARTU3. 


CHAPTER    VII 


ORGANIC    FILAMENTS. 


For  us,  who  happen  to  live  while  the  World-Phoenix  is  burn- 
ing herself,  and  burning  so  slowly  that,  as  Teufelsdrockh  calcu- 
lates, it  were  a  handsome  bargain  would  she  engage  to  have  done 
'  within  two  centuries,'  there  seems  to  lie  but  an  ashy  prospect. 
Not  altogether  so,  however,  does  the  Professor  figure  it.  '  In 
'  the  living  subject,'  says  he,  '  change  is  wont  to  be  gradual  : 
'  thus,  while  the  serpent  sheds  its  old  skin,  the  new  is  already 
1  formed  beneath.  Little  knowest  thou  of  the  burning  of  a  World- 
'  Phoenix,  who  fanciest  that  she  must  first  burn  out,  and  lie  as  a 
c  dead  cinereous  heap  ;  and  therefrom  the  young  one  start  up  by 
'  miracle,  and  fly  heavenward.  Far  otherwise !  In  that  Fire- 
'  whirlwind,  Creation  and  Destruction  proceed  together  ;  ever  as 
'  the  ashes  of  the  Old  are  blown  about,  do  organic  filaments  of 
'  the  New  mysteriously  spin  themselves  :  and  amid  the  rushing 
1  and  the  waving  of  the  Whirlwind-Element,  come  tones  of  a  me- 
'  lodious  Deathsong,  which  end  not  but  in  tones  of  a  more  melo- 
'  dious  Birthsong.  Nay,  look  into  the  Fire-whirlwind  with  thy 
'own  eyes,  and  thou  wilt  see.'  Let  us  actually  look,  then  :  to 
poor  individuals,  who  cannot  expect  to  live  two  centuries,  those 
same  organic  filaments,  mysteriously  spinning  themselves,  will  be 
the  best  part  of  the  spectacle.  First,  therefore,  this  of  3Iankind 
in  general : 

'  In  vain  thou  deniest  it,'  says  the  Professor  ;  '  thou  art  my 
'Brother.  Thy  very  Hatred,  thy  very  Envy,  those  foolish  Lies 
1  thou  tellest  of  me  in  thy  splenetic  humour  :  what  is  all  this  but 
1  an  inverted  Sympathy  1  Were  I  a  Steam-engine,  wouldst  thou 
'  take  the  trouble  to  tell  Lies  of  me  ?  Not  thou !  I  should  grind 
1  all  unheeded,  whether  badly  or  well. 

:  Wondrous  truly  are  the  bonds  that  unite  us  one  and  all ; 


ORGANIC   FILAMENTS.  193 


i  whether  by  the  soft  binding  of  Love,  or  the  iron  chaining  of 
'  Necessity,  as  we  like  to  choose  it.  More  than  once  have  I  said 
'  to  myself  of  some  perhaps  whimsically  strutting  Figure,  such  as 
1  provokes  whimsical  thoughts :  ';  Wert  thou,  my  little  Brotherkin, 
1  suddenly  covered  up  within  the  largest  imaginable  Glass-bell, — 
'  what  a  thing  it  were,  not  for  thyself  only  but  for  the  world ! 
c  Post  Letters,  more  or  fewer,  from  all  the  four  winds,  impinge 
c  against  thy  Glass  walls,  but  have  to  drop  unread  :  neither  from 
4  within  comes  there  question  or  response  into  any  Postbag  ;  thy 
1  Thoughts  fall  into  no  friendly  ear  or  heart,  thy  Manufacture 
1  into  no  purchasing  hand  ;  thou  art  no  longer  a  circulating  ve- 
'  nous-arterial  Heart,  that,  taking  and  giving,  circulatest  through 
'  all  Space  and  all  Time  :  there  has  a  Hole  fallen  out  in  the  im- 

•  measurable,  universal  World-tissue,  which  must  be  darned  up 
i  again !" 

'  Such  venous-arterial  circulation,  of  Letters,  verbal  Messages, 
1  paper  and  other  Packages,  going  out  from  him  and  coming  in, 
1  are  a  blood-circulation,  visible  to  the  eye  ;  but  the  finer  nervous 
1  circulation,  by  which  all  things,  the  minutest  that  he  does,  mi- 
'  nutely  influence  all  men,  and  the  very  look  of  his  face  blesses  or 

*  curses  whomso  it  lights  on,  and  so  generates  ever  new  blessing 
1  or  new  cursing :  all  this  you  cannot  see,  but  only  imagine.  I 
1  say,  there  is  not  a  red  Indian,  hunting  by  Lake  Winnipic,  can 
L  quarrel  with  his  squaw,  but  the  whole  world  must  smart  for  it : 
1  will  not  the  price  of  beaver  rise  ?  It  is  a*  mathematical  fact  that 
1  the  casting  of  this  pebble  from  my  hand  alters  the  centre-of- 
i  gravity  of  the  Universe. 

'  If  now  an  existing  generation  of  men  stand  so  woven  to- 
1  gether,  not  less  indissolubly  does  generation  with  generation. 
'  Hast  thou  ever  meditated  on  that  word,  Tradition  :  how  we  in- 
1  herit  not  Life  only,  but  all  the  garniture  and  form  of  Life  ;  and 
1  work,  and  speak,  and  even  think  and  feel,  as  our  Fathers,  and 
'  primeval  grandfathers,  from  the  beginning,  have  given  it  us  ? — 
'  Who  printed  thee,  for  example,  this  unpretending  Volume  on 
1  the  Philosophy  of  Clothes  ?  Not  the  Herren  Stillschweigen 
1  and  Company  :  but  Cadmus  of  Thebes.  Faust  of  Mentz,  and 
1  innumerable  others  whom  thou  knowest  not.  Had  there  been 
1  no  Moesogothic  Ulfila,  there  had  been  no  English  Shakspeare, 

10 


194  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 


'  or  a  different  one.      Simpleton  !  it  was   Tubalcain  that  made 
'  thy  very  Tailor's  needle,  and  sewed  that  court  suit  of  thine. 

'  Yes,  truly,  if  Nature  is  one,  and  a  living  indivisible  whole, 
'  much  more  is  Mankind,  the  Image  that  reflects  and  creates  Na- 
'  ture,  without  which  Nature  were  not.  As  palpable  life-streams 
'  in  that  wondrous  Individual  Mankind,  among  so  many  life- 
'  streams  that  are  not  palpable,  flow-on  those  main-currents  of 
'  what  we  call  Opinion  :  as  preserved  in  Institutions,  Politics, 
'  Churches,  above  all  in  Books.  Beautiful  it  is  to  understand  and 
'  know  that  a  Thought  did  never  yet  die  ;  that  as  thou,  the  origi- 
'  nator  thereof  hast  gathered  it  and  created  it  from  the  whole 
'  Past,  so  thou  wilt  transmit  it  to  the  whole  Future.  It  is  thus 
1  that  the  heroic  Heart,  the  seeing  Eye  of  the  first  times,  still 
'  feels  and  sees  in  us  of  the  latest ;  that  the  Wise  Man  stands 
1  ever  encompassed,  and  spiritually  embraced,  by  a  cloud  of  wit- 
'  nesses  and  brothers  ;  and  there  is  a  living,  literal  Communion 
A  of  Sai/Us,  wide  as  the  World  itself,  and  as  the  History  of  the 

■  Noteworthy  also,  and  serviceable  for  the  progress  of  this  same 
'  Individual,  wilt  thou  find  his  subdivision  into  Generations. 
'  Generations  are  as  the  Days  of  toilsome  Mankind  ;  Death  and 
'  Birth  are  the  vesper  and  the  matin  bells,  that  summon  Mankind 
'  to  sleep,  and  to  rise  refreshed  for  new  advancement.  What  the 
'  Father  has  made,  the  Son  can  make  and  enjoy  ;  but  has  also 
'work  of  his  own  appointed  him.  Thus  all  things  wax,  and  roll 
'onwards  ;  Arts.  Establishments,  Opinions,  nothing  is  completed, 
'  but  ever  completing.  Newton  has  learned  to  see  what  Kepler 
'  saw  ;  but  there  is  also  a  fresh  heaven-derived  force  in  Newton  ; 
'he  must  mount  to  still  higher  points  of  vision.  So  too  the  He- 
'  brew  Lawgiver  is,  in  due  time,  followed  by  an  Apostle  of  the 
'  (iuntiles.  In  the  business  of  Destruction,  as  this  also  is  from  i 
'  time  to  time  a  necessary  work,  thou  findest  a  like  sequence  audi 
'  perseverance  :  for  Luther  it  was  as  yet  hot  enough  to  stand  by 
'  that  burning  of  the  Pope's  Bull ;  Voltaire  could  not  warm  him- 
•  self  at  the  glimmering  ashes,  but  required  quite  other  fuel. 
'  Thus  likewise,  I  note,  the  English  Whig  has.  in  the  second  gen- 
'eration,  become  an  English  Radical:  who.  in  the  third  again,  it 
'  is  to  be  hoped,  will  become  an  English  Rebuilder.    Find  mankind  ! 


ORGANIC   FILAMENTS.  195 

1  where  thou  wilt,  thou  findest  it  in  living  movement,  in  progress 
'  faster  or  slower  ;  the  Phoenix  soars  aloft,  hovers  with  outstretched 
'  wings,  filling  Earth  with  her  music  ;  or,  as  now,  she  sinks,  and 
1  with  spheral  swan-song  immolates  herself  in  flame,  that  she  may 
'  soar  the  higher  and  sing  the  clearer.' 

Let  the  friends  of  social  order,  in  such  a  disastrous  period,  lay 
this  to  heart,  and  derive  from  it  any  little  comfort  they  can.  We 
subjoin  another  passage,  concerning  Titles : 

'  Remark,  not  without  surprise,'  says  Teufelsdrockh,  '  how  all 
'  high  Titles  of  Honour  come  hitherto  from  .Fighting.  Your 
'  Herzog  (Duke,  Dux)  is  Leader  of  Armies  ;  your  Earl  (Jarl)  is 
1  Strong  Man  ;  your  Marshal  cavalry  Horse-shoer.  A  Millen- 
1  nium,  or  reign  of  Peace  and  Wisdom,  having  from  of  old  been 
'  prophesied,  and  becoming  now  daily  more  and  more  indubita- 
'  ble,  may  it  not  be  apprehended  that  such  Fighting-titles  will 
*  cease  to  be  palatable,  and  new  and  higher  need  to  be  devised  ? 

'  The  only  Title  wherein  I,  with  confidence,  trace  eternity,  is 
'  that  of  King.  Konig  (King),  anciently  Konning  means  Ken- 
'  ning  (Cunning),  or  which  is  the  same  thing,  Can-ning.  Ever 
'  must  the  Sovereign  of  Mankind  be  fitly  entitled  King.' 

'  Well,  also,'  says  he  elsewhere,  '  was  it  written  by  Theologians  ; 
'  a  King  rules  by  divine  right.  He  carries  in  him  an  authority 
'  from  God,  or  man  will  never  give  it  him.  Can  I  choosejny  own 
1  King  1  I  can  choose  my  own  King  Popinjay,  and  play  what 
'  farce  or  tragedy  I  may  with  him :  but  he  who  is  to  be  my  Ruler, 
'  whose  will  is  to  be  higher  than  my  will,  was  chosen  for  me  in 
1  Heaven.  Neither  except  in  such  Obedience  to  the  Heaven- 
'  chosen  is  Freedom  so  much  as  conceivable.' 

The  Editor  will  here  admit  that,  among  all  the  wondrous  pro- 
vinces of  Teufelsdrockh's  spiritual  world,  there  is  none  he  walks 
in  with  such  astonishment,  hesitation,  and  even  pain,  as  in  the 
Political.  How,  with  our  English  love  of  Ministry  and  Opposi- 
tion, and  that  generous  conflict  of  Parties,  mind  warming  itself 
against  mind  in  their  mutual  wrestle  for  the  Public  Good,  by 
which  wrestle,  indeed,  is  our  invaluable  Constitution  kept  warm 
and  alive ;  how  shall  we  domesticate  ourselves  in  this  spectral 
Necropolis,  or  rather  City  both  of  the  Dead  and  of  the  Unborn, 


196  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 

where  the  Present  seems  little  other  than  an  inconsiderable  Film 
dividing  the  Past  and  the  Future  1  In  those  dim  longdrawn  ex- 
panses, all  is  so  immeasurable  ;  much  so  disastrous,  ghastly  :  your 
very  radiances,  and  straggling  light-beams,  have  a  supernatural 
character.  And  then  with  such  an  indifference,  such  a  prophetic 
peacefulness  (accounting  the  inevitably-coming  as  already  here, 
to  him  all  one  whether  it  be  distant  by  centuries  or  only  by 
days),  does  he  sit ; — and  live,  you  would  say,  rather  in  any  other 
age  than  in  his  own  !  It  in  our  painful  duty  to  announce,  or  re- 
peat, that,  looking  into  this  man.  we  discern  a  deep,  silent,  slow- 
burning,  inextinguishable  Radicalism,  such  as  fills  us  with  shud- 
dering admiration. 

Thus,  for  example,  he  appears  to  make  little  even  of  the  Elec- 
tive Franchise  ;  at  least  so  we  interpret  the  following  :  '  Satisfy 
1  yourselves,'  he  says,  '  by  universal,  indubitable  experiment,  even 
'  as  ye  are  now  doing  or  will  do,  whether  Freedom,  heavenborn 
j  and  leading  heavenward,  and  so  vitally  essential  for  us  all,  can- 
'  not  peradventure  be  mechanically  hatched  and  brought  to  light 
1  in  that  same  Ballot-Box  of  yours  ;  or  at  worst  in  some  other 
'  discoverable  or  devisable  Box,  Edifice,  or  Steam-mechanism.  It 
'  were  a  mighty  convenience  ;  and  beyond  all  feats  of  manufac- 
*  ture  witnessed  hitherto.'  Is  Teufelsdrockh  acquainted  with  the 
British  Constitution,  even  slightly  1 — He  says,  under  another 
figure  :*But  after  all,  were  the  problem,  as  indeed  it  now  every- 
'  where  is,  To  rebuild  your  old  House  from  the  top  downwards 
(since  you  must  live  in  it  the  while),  what  better,  what  other, 
j  than  the  Representative  Machine  will  serve  your  turn  ?  Mean- 
while, however,  mock  me  not  with  the  name  of  Free,  "  when 
you  have  but  knit  up  my  chains  into  ornamental  festoons."  ' — 
Or  what  will  any  member  of  the  Peace  Society  make  of  such  an 
assertion  as  this:  'The  lower  people  everywhere  desire  War. 
4  Not  so  unwisely  ;  there  is  then  a  demand  for  lower  people — to 
I  be  shot !' 

Gladly,  therefore,  do  we  emerge  from  those  soul-confusing 
labyrinths  of  speculative  Radicalism,  into  somewhat  clearer  re- 
gions. Here,  looking  round,  as  was  our  hest,  for  *  organic  fila- 
ments,' we  ask,  may  not  this,  touching  '  Hero-worship,'  be  of  the 
number  ?     It  seems  of  a  cheerful  character ;  yet  so  quaint,  so 


ORGANIC   FILAMENTS  197 

mystical,  one  knows  not  what,  or  how  little,  may  lie  under  it. 
Our  readers  shall  look  with  their  own  eyes : 

'  True  is  it  that,  in  these  days,  man  can  do  almost  all  things. 
1  only  not  obey.  True  likewise  that  whoso  cannot  obey  cannot  be 
'  free,  still  less  bear  rule  ;  he  that  is  the  inferior  of  nothing,  can 
'  be  the  superior  of  nothing,  the  equal  of  nothing.  Nevertheless, 
1  believe  not  that  man  has  lost  his  faculty  of  Reverence  ;  that  if 
'  it  slumber  in  him,  it  has  gone  dead.  Painful  for  man  is  that 
1  same  rebellious  Independence,  when  it  has  become  inevitable ; 
'  only  in  loving  companionship  with  his  fellows  does  he  feel  safe ; 
'  only  in  reverently  bowing  down  before  the  Higher  does  he  feel 
'  himself  exalted. 

1  Or  what  if  the  character  of  our  so  troublous  Era  lay  even  in 
'  this  :  that  man  had  forever  cast  away  Fear,  which  is  the  lower ; 
'  but  not  yet  risen  into  perennial  Reverence,  which  is  the  higher 
'  and  highest  ? 

'  Meanwhile,  observe  with  joy,  so  cunningly  has  Nature  ordered 
'  it,  that  whatsoever  man  ought  to  obey  he  cannot  but  obey.  Be- 
'  fore  no  faintest  revelation  of  the  Godlike  did  he  ever  stand 
'  irreverent ;  least  of  all,  when  the  Godlike  shewed  itself  revealed 
1  in  his  fellow-mam  Thus  is  there  a  true  religious  Loyalty  for- 
1  ever  rooted  in  his  heart :  nay,  in  all  ages,  even  in  ours,  it  mani- 
1  fests  itself  as  a  more  or  less  orthodox  Hero-worship.  In  which 
'  fact,  that  Hero-worship  exists,  has  existed,  and  will  for  ever 
'  exist,  universally  among  Mankind,  mayest  thou  discern  the  cor- 
'  ner-stone  of  living-rock,  whereon  all  Polities  for  the  remotest 
'  time  may  stand  secure.' 

Do  our  readers  discern  any  such  corner-stone,  or  even  so  much 
as  what  Teufelsdrockh  is  looking  at  ?  He  exclaims,  '  Or  hast 
'  thou  forgotten  Paris  and  Voltaire  %  How  the  aged,  withered 
'  man,  though  but  a  Sceptic,  Mocker,  and  millinery  Court-poet, 
'  yet  because  even  he  seemed  the  Wisest,  Best,  could  drag  man- 
'  kind  at  his  chariot-wheels,  so  that  princes  coveted  a  smile  from 
'  him,  and  the  loveliest  of  France  would  have  laid  their  hair  be- 
'  neath  his  feet !  All  Paris  was  one  vast  Temple  of  Hero-wor- 
'  ship  ;  though  their  Divinity,  moreover,  was  of  feature  too  apish. 

'  But  if  such  things,'  continues. he,  '  were  done  in  the  dry  tree, 
'  what  will  be  done  in  the  green  ?     If,  in  the  most  parched  season 


108  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

<  of  Man's  History,  in  the  most  parched  spot  of  Europe,  when 
1  Parisian  life  was  at  best  but  a  scientific  Hortus  Siccus,  bedizened 
1  with  some  Italian  Gumnowers,  such  virtue  could  come  out  of  it; 
'  what  is  to  be  looked  for  when  Life  again  waves  leafy  and 
1  bloomy,  and  your  Hero-Divinity  shall  have  nothing  apelike,  but 
1  be  wholly  human  ?  Know  that  there  is  in  man  a  quite  inde- 
'  structible  Reverence  for  whatsoever  holds  of  Heaven,  or  even 
'  plausibly  counterfeits  such  holding.  Shew  the  dullest  clodpole. 
'  shew  the  haughtiest  featherhead,  that  a  soul  Higher  than  him- 
'  self  is  actually  here  ;  were  his  knees  stiffened  into  brass,  he 
1  must  down  and  worship.' 

Organic  filaments,  of  a  more  authentic  sort,  mysteriously  spin- 
ning themselves,  some  will  perhaps  discover  in  the  following  pas- 
sage : 

'  There  is  no  Church,  sayest  thou  ?  The  voice  of  Prophecy 
'  has  gone  dumb  ?  This  is  even  what  I  dispute :  but,  in  any  case, 
1  has  thou  not  still  Preaching  enough  1  A  Preaching  Friar 
'  settles  himself  in  every  village  ;  and  builds  a  pulpit,  which  he 
'  calls  Newspaper.  Therefrom  he  preaches  what  most  momen- 
1  tous  doctrine  is  in  him,  for  man's  salvation  ;  and  dost  not  thou 
'  listen,  and  believe  1  Look  well,  thou  seest  everywhere  a  new 
*  Clergy  of  the  Mendicant  Orders,  some  bare-footed,  some  almost 
'  bare-backed,  fashion  itself  into  shape,  and  teach  and  preach, 
'  zealously  enough,  for  copper  alms  and  the  love  of  God.  These 
'  break  in  pieces  the  ancient  idols ;  and,  though  themselves  too 
1  often  reprobate,  as  idol-breakers  are  wont  to  be,  mark  out  the 
1  sites  of  new  Churches,  where  the  true  God-ordained,  that  are  to 
'  follow,  may  find  audience,  and  minister.  Said  I  not,  Before  the 
1  old  skin  was  shed,  the  new  had  formed  itself  beneath  it  V 

Perhaps,  also,  in  the  following  ;  wherewith  we  now  hasten  to 
knit  up  this  ravelled  sleeve  :   ^VaUC-S  f  tax  4 

1  But  there  is  no  Pieligion  V  reiterates  the  Professor.  '  Pool ! 
:  I  tell  thee,  there  is.  Hast  thou  well  considered  all  that  lies  in 
'this  immeasurable  froth-ocean  we  name  Literature?  Frag- 
'  ments  of  a  genuine  Church- HonilStic  lie  scattered  there,  which 
'  Time  will  assort:  nay  fractions  even  of  a  Liturgy  could  I  point 
'  out.  And  knowest  thou  no  Prophet,  even  in  the  vesture,  en- 
'  vironment,  and  dialect  of  this  age  ?     None  to  whom  the  Godlike 


ORGANIC   FILAMENTS.  199 

'  had  revealed  itself,  through  all  meanest  and  highest  forms  of  the 
1  Common  :  and  by  him  been  again  prophetically  revealed :  in 
'  whose  inspired  melody,  even  in  these  rag  gathering  and  rag- 
1  burning  days,  Man's  Life  again  begins,  were  it  but  afar  off,  to  be 
'  divine 2.    Knowest  thou  none  such?     I  know  him,  and  name 

1  him — Goethe; 

;  But  thou  as  yet  standest  in  no  Temple ;  joinest  in  no  Psalm- 
'  worship  :  feelest  well  that,  where  there  is  no  ministering  Priest, 
1  the  people  perish  ?  Be  of  comfort !  Thou  art  not  alone,  if  thou 
'  have  Faith.  Spake  we  not  of  a  Communion  of  Saints,  unseen, 
'  yet  not  unreal,  accompanying  and  brother-like  embracing  thee,  so 
'  thou  be  worthy  ?  Their  heroic  Sufferings  rise  up  melodiously 
{ together  to  Heaven,  out  of  all  lands,  and  out  of  all  ^imes,  as  a 
'  sacred  Miserere ;  their  heroic  Actions  also,  as  a  boundless,  ever- 
'  lasting  Psalm  of  Triumph.  Neither  say  that  thou  hast  now  no 
'  Symbol  of  the  Godlike.  Is  not  God's  Universe  a  Symbol  of  the 
'  Godlike ;  is  not  Immensity  a  Temple ;  is  not  Man's  History, 
1  and  Men's  History,  a  perpetual  Evangel  %  Listen,  and  for 
*  organ-music  thou  wilt  ever,  as  of  old,  hear  the  Morning  Stars 
1  sing  together.' 


200  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 


CHAPTER    VIII 


NATURAL    SUPERNATURALISM. 


It  is  in  his  stupendous  Section,  headed  Natural  Supernatural- 
ism,  that  the  Professor  first  becomes  a  Seer  :  and,  after  long 
effort,  such  as  we  have  witnessed,  finally  subdues  under  his  feet 
this  refractory  Clothes-Philosophy,  and  takes  victorious  posses- 
sion thereof.  Phantasms  enough  he  has  had  to  struggle  with ; 
'  Cloth-webs  and  Cob-webs,'  of  Imperial  Mantles,  Superannuated 
Symbols,  and  what  not :  yet  still  did  he  courageously  pierce 
through.  Nay,  worst  of  all,  two  quite  mysterious,  world-embra- 
cing Phantasms,  Time  and  Space^  have  ever  hovered  round  him, 
perplexing  and  bewildering  :  but  with  these  also  he  now  reso- 
lutely grapples,  these  also  he  victoriously  rends  asnnder.  In  a 
word,  he  has  looked  fixedly  on  Existence,  till,  one  after  the  other, 
its  earthly  hulls  and  garnitures  have  all  meltefl  .away  ;,  ajid  now, 
to  his  rapt  vision,  the  interior  celestial  Holy  of  Holies  lies  dis- 
closed. 

Here  therefore  properly  it  is  that  the  Philosophy  _of  f!W.hpa 
attains  t<>  Transcendentalism  :  this  last  leap,  can  we  but  clear  it. 
takes  us  safe  into  the  promised  land,  where  Plmngekesta,  in  all 
senses,  may  be  considered  as  beginning.  '  Courage,  then  !'  may 
our  Diogenes  exclaim,  with  better  right  than  Diogenes  the  First 
once  did.  This  stupendous  Section  we.  after  long  painful  medi- 
tation, have  found  not  to  be  unintelligible  ;  but  on  the  contrary 
to  grow  clear,  nay  radiant,  and  all-illuminating.  Let  the  reader, 
turning  on  it  what  utmost  force  of  speculative  intellect  is  in  him, 
do  his  part;  as  we,  by  judicious  selection  and  adjustment,  shall 
study  to  do  ours  ; 

•  Deep  has  been,  and  is,  the  significance  of  Miracles,'  thus 
quietly  begins  the  Professor  ;  '  far  deeper  perhaps  than  we  ima- 
'  giue.     Meanwhile,  the  question   of  questions  were :  What  Bpe- 


NATURAL  SUPERNATURALISM.  201 

|  cially  is  a  Miracle  ?  To  that  Dutch  King  of  Siam.  an  icicle  had 
'"been  a  lnlmcle ;' "wlioso  had  carried  with  him  an  air-pump,  and 
'  phial  of  vitriolic  ether,  might  have  worked  a  miracle.  To  my 
1  horse  again,  who  unhappily  is  still  more  unscientific,  do  not  I 
1  work  a  miracle,  and  magical  "  Open  sesame  /"  every  time  I  please 
'  to  pay  twopence,  and  open  for  him  an  impassable  Schlagbaum,  or 
'  shut  Turnpike  ? 

'  "  But  is  not  a  real  Miracle  simply  a  violation  of  the  Laws  of 
'  Nature?"  ask  several.  Whom  I  answer  by  this  new  question: 
'  What  are  the  Laws  of  Nature  ?  To  me  perhaps  the  rising  of 
'  one  from  the  dead  were  no  violation  of  these  Laws,  but  a  con- 
f  firmation  :  were  some  far  deeper  Law,  now  first  penetrated  into, 
'  and  by  Spiritual  Force,  even  as  the  rest  have  all  been,  brought 
'  to  bear  on  us  with  its  Material  Force. 

'  Here  too  may  some  inquire,  not  without  astonishment :  On 
'  what  ground  shall  one,  that  can  make  Iron  swim,  come  and  de- 
'  clare  that  therefore  he  can  teach  Religion  ?  To  us,  truly,  of  the 
'  Nineteenth  Century,  such  declaration  were  inept  enough;  which 
1  nevertheless  to  our  fathers,  of  the  First  Century,  was  full  of 
1  meaning. 

'  "  But  is  it  not  the  deepest  Law  of  Nature  that  she  be  con- 
1  stant  ?"  cries  an  illuminated  class :  "  Is  not  the  Machine  of  the 
'  Universe  fixed  to  move  by  unalterable  rules  ?"  Probable  enough, 
'  good  friends  :  nay,  I  too  must  believe  that  the  God,  whom 
1  ancient  inspired  men  assert  to  be  "  without  variableness  or 
'  shadow  of  turning."  does  indeed  never  change  ;  that  Nature,  that 
'  the  Universe,  which  no  one  whom  it  so  pleases  can  be  prevented 
'  from  calling  a  Machine,  does  move  by  the  most  unalterable 
1  rules.  And  now  of  you  too  I  make  the  old  inquiry :  What  those 
\  same  unalterable  rules,  forming  the  complete  Statute-Book  of 
1  Nature,  may  possibly  be  1 

1  They  stand  written  in  our  Works  of  Science,  say  you ;  in  the 
'  accumulated  records  of  man's  Experience  ? — Was  Man  with  his 
1  Experience  present  at  the  Creation,  then,  to  see  how  it  all  went 
'.on?  Have  any  deepest  scientific  individuals  yet  dived  down  to 
1  the  foundations  of  the  Universe,  and  gauged  every  thing  there? 
'  Did  the  Maker  take  them  into  His  counsel ;  that  they  read  His 
1  ground-plan  of  the  incomprehensible  All  ;  and  can  say,  This 

10* 


202  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 

:  stands  marked  therein,  and  no  more  than  this  ?  Alas  !  not  in 
;  anywise  !  These  scientific  individuals  have  been  nowhere  but 
'  where  we  also  are  ;  have  seen  some  handbreadths  deeper  than 
'  we  see  into  the  Deep  that  is  infinite,  without  bottom  as  without 
'  shore. 

'  Laplace's  Book  on  the  Stars,  wherein  he  exhibits  that  certain 
1  Planets,  with  their  Satellites,  gyrate  round  our  worthy  Sun,  at  a 
1  rate  and  in  a  course,  which,  by  greatest  good  fortune,  he  and 
'  the  like  of  him  have  succeeded  in  detecting, — is  to  me  as  pre- 
'  cious  as  to  another.  But  is  this  what  thou  namest  "  Mechanism 
'  of  the  Heavens,"  and  "  System  of  the  World ;"  this,  wherein 
1  Sirius  and  the  Pleiades,  and  all  Herschel's  Fifteen  thousand 
'  Suns  per  minute,  being  left  out,  some  paltry  handful  of  Moons, 
'  and  inert  Balls,  had  been — looked  at,  nicknamed,  and  marked  in 
'  the  Zodiacal  Waybill ;  so  that  we  can  now  prate  of  their  Where- 
1  about ;  their  How,  their  Why,  their  What,  being  hid  from  us  as 
'  in  the  signless  Inane  % 

1  System  of  Nature !  To  the  wisest  man,  wide  as  is  his  vision, 
1  Nature  remains  of  quite  infinite  depth,  of  quite  infinite  expan- 
sion; and  all  Experience  thereof  limits  itself  to  some  few  com- 
•puted  centuries,  and  measured  square  miles.  The  course  of 
'  Nature's  phases,  on  this  our  little  fraction  of  a  Planet,  is  par- 

*  tially  known  to  us:  but  who  knows  what  deeper  courses  these 
1  depend  on  :  what  infinitely  larger  Cycle  (of  causes)  our  little 

•  Epicycle  revolves  on  ?  To  the  Minnow  every  cranny  and  peb- 
'  ble.  and  quality  and  accident,  of  its  little  native  Creek  may  have 
'  become  familiar :  but  does  the  Minnow  understand  the  Ocean 
'  Tides  and  periodic  Currents,  the  Trade-winds,  and  Monsoons, 
1  and  Moon's  Eclipses  ;  by  all  which  the  conditiou  of  its  little 
'  Creek  is  regulated,  and  may,  from  time  to  time  (^miraculously 
'  enough),  be  quite  overset  and  reversed?  Such  a  minnow  is  man; 
'  his  Creek  this  Planet  Earth  ;  his  Ocean  the  immeasurable  All ; 
'  his  Monsoons  and  periodic  Currents  the  mysterious  Course  of 

'  Providence  through  JEons  of  iEons. 

'  We  speak  of  the  Volume  of  Nature :  and  truly  a  Volume  it 
'  is, — whose  Author  and  Writer  is  God.  To  read  it !  Dost  thou, 
'  does  man,  so  much  as  well  know  the  Alphabet  thereof?  With 
'  its  Words,  Sentences,  and  grand  descriptive  Pages,  poetical  and 


NATURAL  SUPERNATURALISM.  203 

1  philosophical,  spread  out  through  Solar  Systems,  aud  Thousands 
'  of  Years,  we  shall  not  try  thee.  It  is  a  Volume  written  in  celes- 
'  tial  hieroglyphs,  in  the  true  Sacred-writing ;  of  which  even  Pro- 
'  phets  are  happy  that  they  can  read  here  a  line  and  there  a  line. 
'  As  for  your  Institutes,  and  Academies  of  Science,  they  strive 
'bravely;  and,  from  amid  the  thick-crowded,  inextricably  inter- 
1  twisted  hieroglyphic  writing,  pick  out,  by  dexterous  combination, 
'  some  Letters  in  the  vulgar  Character,  and  therefrom  put  together 
'  this  and  the  other  economic  Recipe,  of  high  avail  in  Practice. 
'  That  Nature  is  more  than  some  boundless  Volume  of  such  Re- 
'  cipes,  or  huge,  well-nigh  inexhaustible  Domestic  Cookery  Book, 
'  of  which  the  whole  secret  will  in  this  manner  one  day  evolve 
'  itself,  the  fewest  dream. 

'Custom,'  continues  the  Professor,  '  doth  make  dotards  of  us 
'  all.  Consider  well,  thou  wilt  find  that  Custom  is  the  greatest  of 
'  3Veavers ;  and  weaves  airy  raiment  for  all  the  Spirits  of  the 
'  Universe  :  whereby  indeed  these  dwell  with  us  visibly,  as  minis- 
'  tering  servants,  in  our  houses  and  workshops ;  but  their  spiri- 
'  tual  nature  becomes,  to  the  most,  forever  hidden.  Philosophy 
'  complains  that  Custom  has  hoodwinked  us,  from  the  first ;  that 
'  we  do  every  thing  by  Custom,  even  Believe  by  it ;  that  our  very 
'  Axioms,  let  us  boast  of  Free-thinking  as  we  may,  are  oftenest 
'  simply  such  Beliefs  as  we  have  never  heard  questioned.  Nay, 
'  what  is  Philosophy  throughout  but  a  continual  battle  against 
'  Custom  ;  an  ever-renewed  effort  to  transcend  the  sphere  of  blind 
'  Custom,  and  so  become  Transcendental? 

'  Innumerable  are  the  illusions  and  legerdemain  tricks  of  Cus- 
'  torn  :  but  of  all  these  perhaps  the  cleverest  is  her  knack  of  per- 
'  suading  us  that  the  Miraculous,  by  simple  repetition,  ceases  to 
'  be  Miraculous.  True,  it  is  by  this  means  we  live  ;  for  man  must 
'work  as  weil  as  wonder:  and  herein  is  Custom  so  far  a  kind 
'  nurse,  guiding  him  to  his  true  benefit.  But  she  is  a  fond  fool- 
'  ish  nurse,  or  rather  we  are  false  foolish  nurslings,  when  in  our 
'  resting  and  reflecting  hours,  we  prolong  the  same  deception. 
'  Am  I  to  view  the  Stupendous  with  stupid  indifference,  because 
'  I  have  seen  it  twice,  or  two  hundred,  or  two  million  times  ? 
'  There  is  no  reason  in  Nature  or  in  Art  why  I  should :  unless, 


204  SARTOR  RES  ART  US. 


'  indeed,  I  am  a  mere  Work-Machine,  for  whom  the  divine  gift 
'  of  Thought  were  no  other  than  the  terrestrial  gift  of  Steam  13 
'  to  the  Steam-engine  ;  a  power  whereby  Cotton  might  be  spun, 
'  and  money  and  money's  worth  realised. 

-  Notable  enough  too,  here  as  elsewhere,  wilt  thou  find  the  po-_ 
' tency  of  Names  ;  which  indeed  are  but  one  kind  01  such  Custom- 
'  woven,  wonder-hiding  Garments.  Witchcraft,  and  all  manner 
'  of  Spectre-work,  and  Dcmonology,  we  have  now  named  Mad- 
'  ness,  and  Diseases  of  the  Nerves.  Seldom  reflecting  that  still 
'  the  new  question  comes  upon  us  :  What  is  Madness,  what  are 
'Nerves?  Ever,  as  before,  does  Madness  remain  a  mysterious-* 
'  terrific,  altogether  infernal  boiling  up  of  the  Nether  Chaotic 
'  Deep,  through  this  fair-painted  Vision  of  Creation,  which  swims 
'  thereon,  which  we  name  the  Real.  Was  Luther's  Picture  of  the 
'  Devil  less  a  Reality,  whether  it  were  formed  within  the  bodily 
'  eye,  or  without  it  1  In  every  the  wisest  soul  lies  a  whole  world 
'  of  internal  Madness,  an  authentic  Demon-Empire  :  out  of  which, 
1  indeed,  his  world  of  Wisdom  has  been  creatively  built  together, 
1  and  now  rests  there,  as  on  its  dark  foundations  does  a  habitable 
'  flowery  Earth-rind. 

'  But  deepest  of  all  illusory  Appearances,  for  hiding  Wonder, 
'as  for  many  other  ends,  are  your  two  grand  fundamental  world- 
c  enveloping  Appearances,  Space  and  Tlwi;.  These,  as  spun 
c  and  woven  for  us  from  before  Birth  itself,  to  clothe  our  celestial 
'  Me  for  dwelling  here,  and  yet  to  blind  it, — lie  all-embracing,  as 
1  the  universal  canvass,  or  warp  and  woof,  whereby  all  minor  Illu- 
sions, in  this  Phantasm  Existence,  weave  and  paint  themselves. 
'  In  vain,  while  here  on  Earth,  shall  you  endeavour  to  strip  them 
'off;  you  can,  at  best,  but  rend  them  asunder  for  moments,  and 
'look  through. 

'  Fortunatus  had  a  wishing  Hat,  which  when  he  put  on.  and 
'  wished  himself  Anywhere,  behold  he  was  there.  By  this  means 
'  had  Fortunatus  triumphed  over  Space,  he  had  annihilated 
'  Space  ;  for  him  there  was  no  Where,  but  all  was  Here.  Were 
'a  Hatter  to  establish  himself,  in  the  Wahngasse  of  Weissnicht- 
'  wo,  and  make  felts  of  this  sort  for  all  mankind,  what  a  world 
4  we  should   have  of  it !     Still  stranger,  should,  on  the  opposite 


NATURAL  SUPERNATURALISM.  205 

c  side  of  the  street,  another  Hatter  establish  himself;  and,  as  his 
'  fellow-craftsman  made  Space-annihilating  Hats,  make  Time- 
'  annihilating  !  Of  both  would  I  purchase,  were  it  with  my  last 
'  groschen  ;  but  chiefly  of  this  latter.  To  clap  on  your  felt,  and, 
'  simply  by  wishing  that  your  were  Anywhere,  straightway  to  be 
'  There!  Next  to  clap  on  your  other  felt,  and,  simply  by  wishing 
'  that  you  were  Anywhen,  straightway  to  be  Then!  This  were  in- 
'  deed  the  grander  :  shooting  at  will  from  the  Fire-Creation  of  the 
'  World  to  its  Fire-Consummation ;  here  historically  present  in 
1  the  First  Century,  conversing  face  to  face  with  Paul  and  Seneca; 
'  there  prophetically  in  the  Thirty-first,  conversing  also  face  to 
'  face  with  other  Pauls  and  Senecas,  who  as  yet  stand  hidden  in 
'  the  depth  of  that  late  Time  ! 

'  Or  thinkest  thou,  it  were  impossible,  unimaginable  ?  Is  the 
1  Past  annihilated,  then,  or  only  past ;  is  the  Future  non-extant 
'  or  only  future  %  Those  mystic  faculties  of  thine,  Memory  and 
'  Hope,  already  answer :  already  through  those  mystic  avenues, 
1  thou  the  Earth-blinded  summonest  both  Past  and  Future,  and 
i  communest  with  them,  though  as  yet  darkly,  and  with  mute  beck- 
1  onings.  The  curtains  of  Yesterday  drop  down,  the  curtains  of 
'  Tomorrow  roll  up  ;  but  Yesterday  and  To-morrow  both  are. 
1  Pierce  through  the  Time-Element,  glance  into  the  Eternal. 
'  Believe  what  thou  findest  written  in  the  sanctuaries  of  Man's 
'  Soul,  even  as  all  Thinkers,  in  all  ages,  have  devoutly  read  it 
1  there  :  thaU^wm^ftnd-Apn.flg.Are.  not  God,  but  creations  of  Godj 
1  that  with  God  as  it  is  a  universal  Here,  so  is  it  an  everlasting 
'  Now. 

'And  seest  thou  therein  any  glimpse  of  Immortality1? — O 
1  Heaven !  Is  the  white  Tomb  of  our  Loved  One,  who  died  from 
'  our  arms,  and  had  to  be  left  behind  us  there,  which  rises  in  the 
'  distance,  like  a  pale,  mournfully  receding  Milestone,  to  tell  how 
'  many  toilsome  uncheered  miles  we  have  journeyed  on  alone, — 
'  but  a  pale  spectral  Illusion !  Is  the  lost  Friend  still  myste- 
1  riously  Here,  even  as  we  are  Here  mysteriously,  with  God  ! — 
'  Know  of  a  truth  that  only  the  Time-shadows  have  perished,  or 
1  are  perishable  ;   tbaJ^nsj^aLJieJJig-^^ 

'  ever  isf_Mid  whatever  wilL  be,  is  even_joiLw^aM_J>orey_£n-  This, 
;  should  it  unhappily  seem  new,  thou  mayst  ponder  at  thy  lei- 


206  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 


sure  ;  for  the  next  twenty  years,  or  the  next  twenty  centuries : 

•  Kplipyp   it.  ^linn    n^jfij-  ;     nr.rWrtnr.rl    it  l.rirm   canst,  Tint 

'  That  the  Thought-forms,  Space  and  Time,  wherein,  once  for 
:  all,  we  are  sent  into  this  Earth  to  live,  should  condition  and  de- 
termine our  whole  Practical  reasonings,  conceptions,  and  imag- 
'ings  or  imaginings, — seems  altogether  fit,  just,  and  unavoidable. 
But  that  they  should,  furthermore,  usurp  such  sway  over  pure 
spiritual  Meditation,  and  blind  us  to  the  wonder  everywhere  ly- 
<  ing  close  on  us,  seems  nowise  so.  Admit  Space  and  Time  to 
'  their  clue  rank  as  Forms  of  Thought ;  nay,  even,  if  thou  wilt,  io 
1  their  quite  undue  rank  of  Realities :  and  consider,  then,  with 
'  thyself  how  their  thin  disguises  hide  from  us  the  brightest  God- 
'  effulgences !  Thus,  were  it  not  miraculous,  could  I  stretch 
:  '  forth  my  hand,  and  clutch  the  Sun  ?  Yet  thou  seest  me  daily 
1  stretch  forth  my  hand,  and  therewith  clutch  many  a  thing,  and 
'  swing  it  hither  and  thither.  Art  thou  a  grown  baby,  then, 
'  to  fancy  that  the  Miracle  lies  in  miles  of  distance,  or  in  pounds 
1  avoirdupois  of  weight ;  and  not  to  see  that  the  true  inexplicable 
'  jjori  jevealiiig-Mixacle  lies  in  this^jthat—I— can  stretch  forth  my_ 
(  hnnrl  nt  all-;  that  I  have  free  Force  to  clutch  aught  therewith  ? 
'  Innumerable  other  of  this  sort  are  the  deceptions,  and  wonder- 
1  hiding  stupefactions,  which  Space  practices  on  us. 

'  Still  worse  is  it  with  regard  to  Time.  Your  grand  anti-ma- 
'  gician,  and  universal  wonder-hider,  is  this  same  lying  Time. 
'  Had  we  but  the  Time-annihilating  Hat,  to  put  on  for  once  only, 
'  we  should  see  ourselves  in  a  World  of  Miracles,  wherein  all 
'  fabled  or  authentic  Thaumaturgy,  and  feats  of  Magic,  were  out- 
'  done.  But  unhappily  we  have  not  such  a  Hat ;  and  man,  poor 
;  fool  that  he  is,  can  seldom  and  scantily  help  himself  without 
1  one. 

'  Were  it  not  wonderful,  for  instance,  had  Orpheus,  or  Am- 
'  phion,  built  the  walls  of  Thebes  by  the  mere  sound  of  his  Lyre? 
'  Yet  tell  me,  Who  built  these  walls  of  Weissuichtwo ;  summon- 
'  ing  out  all  the  sandstone  rocks,  to  dance  along  from  the  Steiii- 
1  bruck  (now  a  huge  Troglodyte  Chasm,  with  frightful  green-man- 
1  tied  pools) :  and  shape  themselves  into  Doric  and  Ionic  pillars, 
'  squared  ashlar  houses,  and  noble  streets  ?  Was  it  not  the  still 
'  higher   Orpheus,  or  Orpheuses,  who,  in  past  centuries,  by  the 


NATURAL  SUPERNATURALISM.  207 

'  divine  Music  of  Wisdom,  succeeded  in  civilising  man  7  Our 
'  highest  Orpheus  walked  in  Judca,  eighteen  hundred  years  ago  ■ 
'  his  sphere-melody,  flowing  in  wild  native  tones,  took  captive  the 

•  ravished  souls  of  men  ;  and,  being  of  a  truth  sphere-melody,  still 
'  flows  and  sounds,  though  now  with  thousandfold  Accompani- 
'  ments,  and  rich  symphonies,  through  all  our  hearts ;  and  modu- 
1  lates,  and  divinely  leads  them.  Is  that  a  wonder,  which  hap- 
1  pens  in  two  hours  :  and  does  it  cease  to  be  wonderful  if  happen- 
'  ing  in  two  million  ?  Not  only  was  Thebes  built  by  the  music  of 
'an  Orpheus;  but  without  the  music  of  some  inspired  Orpheus, 
'  was  no  city  ever  built,  no  work  that  man  glories  in  ever  done. 

'  Sweep  away  the  Illusion  of  Time  ;  glance,  if  thou  have  eyes, 
|  from  the  near  moving-cause  to  its  far  distant  Mover  :  The  stroke 
'  that  came  transmitted  through  a  whole  galaxy  of  elastic  balls, 
{ was  it  it  less  a  stroke  than  if  the  last  ball  only  had  been  struck, 

•  and  sent  flying  ?  Oh,  could  I  (with  the  Time-annihilating  Hat) 
'  transport  thee  direct  from  the  Beginnings  to  the  Endings,  how 
'  were  thy  eyesight  unsealed,,  and  thy  heart  set  flaming  in  the 
'  Light-sea  of  celestial  wonder  !  Then  sawest  thou  that  this  fair 
1  Universe,  were  it  in  the  meanest  province  thereof,  is  in  very  deed 
c  the  star-domed  City  of  God ;  that  through  every  star,  through 
'  every  grass-blade,  and  most  through  every  Living  Soul,  the 
'  glory  of  a  present  God  still  beams.  But  Nature,  which  is  the 
'  Time-vesture  of  God,  and  reveals  Him  to  the  wise,  hides  Him 
1  from  the  foolish. 

1  Again,  could  any  thing  be  more  miraculous  than  an  actual 
1  authentic  Ghost  ?  The  English  Johnson  longed,  all  his  life  to 
1  see  one ;  but  could  not,  though  he  went  to  Cock  Lane,  and 
'  thence  to  the  church-vaults,  and  tapped  on  coffins.  Foolish  Doc- 
1  tor  !  Did  he  never,  with  the  mind's  eye  as  well  as  with  the  body's, 
'  look  round  him  into  that  full  tide  of  human  Life  he  so  loved  : 
1  did  he  never  so  much  as  look  into  Himself?  The  good  Doctor 
'  was  a  Ghost,  as  actual  and  authentic  as  heart  could  wish ;  well 
'  nigh  a  million  of  Ghosts  were  travelling  the  streets  by  his  side. 
'  Once  more  I  say,  sweep  away  the  illusion  of  Time  ;  compress 
'  the  threescore  years  into  three  minutes :  what  else  was  he,  what 
'  else  are  we  1  ^xe_we  not  Spirits,  that  are  shaped  into  a  body, 
'  into  an  Appearance  :  and  that  fade  away  again  into  air,  and  In- 


208  'SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

'  visibility?  This  \s  no  metaphor,  it  is  a  sim^le_s^ientific_^d_^ 
/'we  start  out  of  Nothingness,  take  figure,  and  are  Apparitions; 
'round  us,  as  round  the  veriest  spectre,  is  Eternity;  and  to 
'  Eternity  minutes  are  as  years  and  aeons.  Come  there  not  tones 
f  of  Love  and  Faith,  as  from  celestial  harp-strings,  like  the  Song 
'  of  beatified  Souls  ?  And  again,  do  we  not  squeak  and  gibber  (in 
'  our  discordant,  screech-owlish  debatings  and  recriminatings) ; 
'and  glide  bodeful  and  feeble,  and  fearful;  or  uproar  (polter/i), 
'  and  revel  in  our  mad  Dance  of  the  Dead, — till  the  scent  of  the 
'  morning-air  summons  us  to  our  still  Home ;  and  dreamy  Night 
'  becomes  awake  and  Day  ?  Where  now  is  Alexander  of  Mace- 
'  don :  does  the  steel  Host,  that  yelled  in  fierce  battle-shouts,  at 
'  Issus  and  Arbela,  remain  behind  him ;  or  have  they  all  vanish- 
'  ed  utterly,  even  as  perturbed  Goblins  must?  Napoleon  too, 
'  and  his  Moscow  Retreats  and  Austerlitz  Campaigns  !  Was  it 
'  all  other  than  the  veriest  Spectre-hunt ;  which  has  now,  with  its 
'  howling  tumult  that  made  Night  hideous,  flitted  away  ? — 
c  Ghosts  !  There  are  nigh  a  thousand  million  walking  the  Earth 
'  openly  at  noontide  ;  some  half-hundred  have  vanished  from  it, 
'  some  half-hundred  have  arisen  in  it,  ere  thy  watch  ticks  once. 
0  Heaven,  it  is  mysterious,  it  is  awful  to  consider  that  we 
ly  carry  ench  n future  Ghostwitliiiilum  :  but_ar&qiuygry 
deepljjjrjiosts  !  These  Limbs,  whence  had  we  them  :  this  stormy 
'  Force ;  this  life-blood  with  its  burning  Passion  ?  They  are 
'  dust  and  shadow  ;  a  Shadow-system  gathered  round  our  Me  J 
1  wherein  through  some  moments  or  years,  the  Divine  Essence  is 
'  to  be  revealed  in  the  Flesh.  That  warrior  on  his  strong  war- 
'  horse,  fire  flashes  through  his  eyes  :  force  dwells  in  his  arm  and 
'  heart :  but  warrior  and  war-horse  arc  a  vision  ;  a  revealed  Force, 
'  nothing  more.  Stately  they  tread  the  Earth,  as  if  it  were  a 
'  firm  substance :  fool  !  the  Earth  is  but  a  film  ;  it  cracks  in 
'twain,  and  warrior  and  war-horse  sink  beyond  plummet's  sound- 
'  ing.  Plummets  ?  Fantasy  herself  will  not  follow  them.  A 
'  little  while  ago  they  were  not  ;  a  little  while  and  they  are  not, 
'  their  very  ashes  are  not, 

'  So  has  it  been  from  the  beginning,  so  will  it  be  to  the  end. 
'  Generation  after  generation  takes  to  itself  the  Form  of  a  Body  ; 
4  and  forth-issuing  from  Cimmerian  Night,  on  Heaven's  mission 


'  noijmjy 
<  deed.  Gl 


NATURAL  SUPERNATURALISM.  209 

'  appears.  What  Force  and  Fire  is  in  each  he  expends  :  one 
'grinding  in  the  mill  of  Industry  :  one  hunter-like  climbing  the 
t  giddy  Alpine  heights  of  Science  ;  one  madly  dashed  in  pieces 
'  on  the  rocks  of  Strife,  in  war  with  his  fellow  : — and  then  the 
'  Heaven-sent  is  recalled  ;  his  earthly  Vesture  falls  away,  and 
'  soon  even  to  Sense  becomes  a  Vanished  Shadow.  Thus,  like 
'  some  wild-flaming,  wild-thundering  train  of  Heaven's  Artillery. 
'  does  this  mysterious  Mankind  thunder  and  flame,  in  long- 
1  drawn,  quick-succeeding  grandeur,  through  the  unknown  Deep. 
'  Thus,  like  a  God-created,  fire-breathing  Spirit -host,  we  emerge 
(  from  the  Inane  ;  haste  stormfully  across  the  astonished  Earth  : 
1  then  plunge  again  into  the  Inane.  Earth's  mountains  are  lev- 
'  elled,  and  her  seas  filled  up,  in  our  passage  :  can  the  Earth, 
'  which  is  but  dead  and  a  vision,  resist  Spirits  which  have  reality 
'  and  are  alive  ?  On  the  hardest  adamant  some  foot-print  of  us  i 
1  is  stamped  in  ;  the  last  Rear  of  the  host  will  read  traces  of  the 
'earliest  Van.  But.  whence? — 0  ..Heaven,  whither?  Sense 
1  knows  not ;  Faith  knows  not ;  only  that  it  is  through  Mystery 
'  to  Mystery,  from  God  and  to  God. 

u  We  are  such  stuff 
1  As  Dreams  are  made  of,  and  our  little  Life 
'  Is  rounded  with  a  sleep  F  J 


210  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


CHAPTER    IX. 


CIRCUMSPECTIVE. 


Here  then  arises  the  so  momentous  question  :  Have  many 
British  Readers  actually  arrived  with  us  at  the  new  promised 
country  ;  is  the  Philosophy  of  Clothes  now  at  last  opening  around 
them  %  Long  and  adventurous  has  the  journey  been  :  from  those 
outmost  vulgar,  palpable  Woollen  Hulls  of  Man  ;  through  his 
wondrous  Flesh-Garments,  and  his  wondrous  Social  Garnitures ; 
inwards  to  the  Garments  of  his  very  Soul's  Soul,  to  Time  and 
Space  themselves  !  And  now  does  the  Spiritual,  eternal  Essence 
of  Man,  and  of  Mankind,  bared  of  such  wrappages,  begin  in  any 
measure  to  reveal  itself?  Can  many  readers  discern,  as  through 
a  glass  darkly,  in  huge  wavering  outlines,  some  primeval  rudi- 
ments of  Man's  Being,  what  is  changeable  divided  from  what 
is  unchangeable  %     Does  that  Earth-Spirit's  speech  in  Faust : 

1  'Tis  thus  at  the  roaring  Loom  of  Time  I  ply, 

'  And  weave  for  God  the  Garment  thou  see'st  him  by  f 

or  that  other  thousand-times  repeated  speech  of  the  Magician, 
Shakspeare  : 

'  And  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  this  vision, 
'  The  cloudcapt  Towers,  the  gorgeous  Palaces, 
'  The  solemn  Temples,  the  great  Globe  itself, 
'And  all  which  it  Inherit  shall  dissolve  ;' 
'•  And  like  this  unsubstantial  pageant  faded, 
'Leave  not  a  wr.uk  behind;' 

begin  to  have  some  meaning  for  us  ?  In  a  word,  do  we  at  length 
stand  safe  in  the  far  region  of  Poetic  Creation  and  Palingenesia, 
where  that  Phoenix  Death-Birth  of  Human  Society,  and  of  all 
Human  Thirigs,  appears  possible,  is  seen  to  be  inevitable  % 


CIRCUMSPECTIVE.  211 


Along  this  most  insufficient,  unheard-of  Bridge,  which  the 
Editor,  by  Heaven's  blessing,  has  now  seen  himself  enabled  to 
conclude  if  not  complete,  it  cannot  be  his  sober  calculation,  but 
only  his  fond  hope,  that  many  have  travelled  without  accident. 
No  firm  arch,  overspanning  the  Impassable  with  paved  highway, 
could  the  Editor  construct ;  only,  as  was  said,  some  zigzag  series 
of  rafts  floating  tumultuously  thereon.  Alas,  and  the  leaps  from 
raft  to  raft  were  too  often  of  a  breakneck  character ;  the  dark- 
ness, the  nature  of  the  element,  all  was  against  us ! 

Nevertheless,  may  not  here  and  there  one  of  a  thousand,  pro- 
vided with  a  discursiveness  of  intellect  rare  in  our  day,  have 
cleared  the  passage,  in  spite  of  all  %  Happy  few  !  little  band  of 
Friends  !  be  welcome,  be  of  courage.  By  degrees,  the  eye  grows 
accustomed  to  its  new  Whereabout ;  the  hand  can  stretch  itself  \  • , 
forth  to  work  there:  it  is  in  .this  grand; juid  indeed,  highest  work 
of  Palingenesia  that  ye  shall  labour,  each  according  to  ability. 
New  labourers  will  arrive  ;  new  Bridges  will  be  built ;  nay,  may 
not  our  own  poor  rope-and-raft  Bridge,  in  your  passings  and  re- 
passings,  be  mended  in  many  a  point,  till  it  grow  quite  firm, 
passable  even  for  the  halt  % 

Meanwhile,  of  the  innumerable  multitude  that  started  with  us, 
joyous  and  full  of  hope,  where  now  is  the  innumerable  remainder, 
whom  we  see  no  longer  by  our  side  1  The  most  have  recoiled, 
and  stand  gazing  afar  off,  in  unsympathetic  astonishment,  at  our 
career:  not  a  few,  pressing  forward  with  more  courage,  have 
missed  footing,  or  leaped  short ;  and  now  swim  weltering  in  the 
Chaos-flood,  some  towards  this  shore,  some  towards  that.  To 
these  also  a  helping  hand  should  be  held  out ;  at  least  some  word 
of  encouragement  be  said. 

Or,  to  speak  without  metaphor,  with  which  mode  of  utterance 
Teufelsdrockh  unhappily  has  somewhat  infected  us, — can  it  be 
hidden  from  the  Editor  that  many  a  British  Reader  sits  reading 
quite  bewildered  in  head,  and  afflicted  rather  than  instructed  by 
the  present  Work  ?  Yes,  long  ago  has  many  a  British  Reader 
been,  as  now,  demanding  with  something  like  a  snarl :  Whereto 
does  all  this  lead  ;  or  what  use  is  in  it  1 

In  the  way  of  replenishing  thy  purse,  or  otherwise  aiding  thy 
digestive  faculty,  O  British  Reader,  it  leads  to  nothing,  and  there 


212  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 

is  no  use  in  it ;  but  rather  the  reverse,  for  it  costs  thee  somewhat. 
Nevertheless,  if  through  this  unpromising  Horn-gate,  Teufels- 
drockh,  and  we  by  means  of  him,  have  led  thee  into  the  true 
Land  of  Dreams  ;  and  through  the  Clothes-Screen,  as  through  a 
magical  Pierre-Pertms,  thou  lookest,  even  for  moments,  into  the 
region  of  the  Wonderful,  and  seest  and  feelest  that  thy  daily  life 
is  girt  with  Wonder,  and  based  on  Wonder,  and  thy  very 
blankets  and  breeches  are  Miracles, — then  art  thou  profited  be- 
yond money's  worth  ;  and  hast  a  thankfulness  towards  our  Pro- 
fessor ;  nay,  perhaps  in  many  a  literary  Tea-circle,  wilt  open  thy 
kind  lips,  and  audibly  express  that  same. 

Nay,  farther,  art  not  thou  too  perhaps  by  this  time  made  aware 
that.all  Symbols  are  properly  Clothes  ;  that  all  Forms  whereby 
Spirit  manifests  itself  to  Sense,  whether  outwardly  or  in  thelm- 
agination.  are  Clothes;  and  thus  not  only  the  parchment  Magna 
Charta,  which  a  Tailor  was  nigh  cutting  into  measures,  but  the 
Pomp  and  Authority  of  Law,  the  oaorodncot)  of  Majesty,  and  all 
inferior  Worships  (Worth-ships)  are  properly  a  Vesture  and  Rai- 
ment ;  and  the  Thirty  nine  Articles  themselves  are  articles  of 
wearing  apparel  (for  the  Religious  Idea)  ?  In  which  case,  must 
it  not  also  be  admitted  that  this  Science  of  Clothes  is  a  high  one, 
and  may  with  infinitely  deeper  study  on  thy  part  yield  richer 
fruit :  that  it  takes  scientific  rank  beside  Codification,  and  Politi- 
cal Economy,  and  the  Theory  of  the  British  Constitution  ;  nay, 
rather,  from  its  prophetic  height  looks  down  on  all  these,  as  on  so 
many  weaving-shops  and  spinning-mills,  where  the  Vestures  which 
it  has  to  fashion,  and  consecrate,  and  distribute,  are,  too  often  by 
haggard  hungry  operatives  who  see  no  farther  than  their  nose, 
mechanically  woven  and  spun  ? 

But  omitting  all  this,  much  more  all  that  concerns  Natural 
Supernaturalism,  and  indeed  whatever  has  reference  to  the  Ulte- 
rior or  Transcendental  Portion  of  the  Science,  or  bears  never  so 
remotely  on  that  promised  Volume  of  the  Palijigenesieder  mensck- 
lichen  Gesellsckajl  (Newbirth  of  Society), — we  humbly  suggest 
that  no  province  of  Clothes-Philosophy,  even  the  lowest,  is  with- 
out its  direct  value,  but  that  innumerable  inferences  of  a  practi- 
cal nature  may  lie  drawn  therefrom.  To  Say  nothing  of  those 
pregnant  considerations,  ethical,  political,  symbolical,  which  crowd 


CIRCUMSPECTIVE.  213 


on  the  Clothes-Philosopher  from  the  very  threshold  of  his  Sci- 
ence ;  nothing  even  of  those  '  architectural  ideas'  which,  as  wc 
have  seen,  lurk  at  the  bottom  of  all  Modes,  and  will  one  day, 
better  unfolding  themselves,  lead  to  important  revolutions, — let 
us  glance  for  a  moment,  and  with  the  faintest  light  of  Clothes- 
Philosophy,  on  what  may  be  called  the  Habilatory  Class  of  our 
fellow-men.  Here  too  overlooking,  where  so  much  were  to  be 
looked  on,  the  million  spinners,  weavers,  fullers,  dyers,  washers, 
and  wringers,  that  puddle  and  muddle  in  their  dark  recesses,  to 
make  us  Clothes,  and  die  that  we  may  live, — let  us  but  turn  the 
reader's  attention  upon  two  small  divisions  of  mankind,  who,  like 
moths,  may  be  regarded  as  Cloth-animals,  j3reatures_tkat_|iye, 
move  and  have  their  being  in  Cloth  :  we  mean,  Dandies  and 
Tailors. 

In  regard  to  both  which  small  divisions  it  may  be  asserted, 
without  scruple,  that  the  public  feeling,  unenlightened  by  Phi- 
losophy, is  at  fault;  and  even  that  the  dictates  of  humanity  are 
violated.  As  will  perhaps  abundantly  appear  to  readers  of  the 
two  following  Chapters. 


214  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 


CHAPTER    X. 


THE    DANDIACAL    BODY. 


First,  touching  Dandies,  let  us  consider,  with  some  scientific 
strictness,  what  a  Dandy  specially  is.  A  Dandy  is  a  Clothes- 
wearing  man,  a  Man  whose  trade,  oifice,  and  existence  consists  in 
the  wearing  of  Clothes.  Every  faculty  of  his  soul,  spirit,  purse, 
and  person  is  heroically  consecrated  to  this  one  object,  the  wear- 
ing of  Clothes  wisely  and  well:  so  that  as  others  dress  to  live^Jie^ 
lives  to  dress.  The  all-importance  of  Clothes,  which  a  German 
Professor,  of  unequalled  learning  and  acumen,  writes  his  enor- 
mous Volume  to  demonstrate,  has  sprung  up  in  the  intellect  of 
the  Dandy,  without  effort,  like  an  instinct  of  genius ;  he  is  inspired 
with  Cloth,  a  Poet  of  Cloth.  What  Teufelsdrockh  would  call  a 
1  Divine  Idea  of  Cloth'  is  born  with  him  ;  and  this,  like  other  such 
Ideas,  will  express  itself  outwardly,  or  wring  his  heart  asunder 
with  unutterable  throes. 

But,  like  a  generous,  creative  enthusiast,  he  fearlessly  makes 
his  Idea  an  Action  ;  shews  himself,  in  peculiar  guise,  to  mankind ; 
walks  forth,  a  witness  and  living  Martyr  to  the  eternal  "Worth  of 
Clothes.  We  called  him  a  Poet:  is  not  his  body  the  (stuffed) 
parchment-skin  whereon  he  writes,  with  cunning  Huddersfield 
dyes,  a  Sonnet  to  his  mistress'  eyebrow  ?  Say,  rather,  an  Epos, 
and  Clotha  Virumque  cano,  to  the  whole  world,  in  Macaronic 
verses,  which  he  that  runs  may  read.  Nay,  if  you  grant,  what 
seems  to  be  admissible,  that  the  Dandy  has  a  Thinking-principle 
in  him,  and  some  notions  of  Time  and  Space,  is  there  not  in  this 
Life-devotedness  to  Cloth,  in  this  so  willing  sacrifice  of  the  Im- 
mortal to  the  Perishable,  something  (though  in  reverse  order)  of 
that  blending  and  identification  of  Eternity  with  Time,  which,  as 
we  have  seen,  constitutes  the  Prophetic  character  ? 

And  now,  for  all  this  perennial  Martyrdom,  and  Poesy,  and 


THE   DANDIACAL   BODY.  215 

even  Prophecy,  what  is  it  that  the  Dandy  asks  in  return  ?  Solely, 
we  may  say.  that  you  would  recognise  his  existence:  would  admit 
him  to  be  a  living  object;  or  even  failing  this,  a  visual  object,  or 
thing  that  will  reflect  rays  of  light.  Your  silver  or  your  gold 
(beyond  what  the  niggardly  Law  has  already  secured  him)  he 
solicits  not ;  simply  the  glance  of  your  eyes.  Understand  his 
mystic  significance,  or  altogether  miss  and  misinterpret  it ;  do  but 
look  at  him,  and  he  is  contented.  May  we  not  well  cry  shame  on 
an  ungrateful  world,  which  refuses  even  this  poor  boon ;  which 
will  waste  its  optic  faculty  on  dried  Crocodiles,  and  Siamese 
Twins  ;  and  over  the  domestic  wonderful  wonder  of  wonders,  a 
live  Dandy,  glance  with  hasty  indifference,  and  a  scarcely  con- 
cealed contempt!  Him  no  Zoologist  classes  among  the  Mammalia, 
no  Anatomist  dissects  with  care :  when  did  we  see  any  injected 
Preparation  of  the  Dandy,  in  our  Museums  ;  any  specimen  of 
him  preserved  in  spirits  %  Lord  Herringbone  may  dress  himself 
in  a  snuff  brown  suit,  with  snuff-brown  shirt  and  shoes :  it  skills 
not ;  the  undiscerning  public,  occupied  with  grosser  wants,  passes 
by  regardless  on  the  other  side. 

The  age  of  Curiosity,  like  that  of  Chivalry,  is,  indeed,  properly 
speaking,  gone.  Yet  perhaps  only  gone  to  sleep  :  for  here  arises 
the  Clothes-Philosophy  to  resuscitate,  strangely  enough,  both  the 
one  and  the  other  !  Should  sound  views  of  this  Science  come  to 
prevail,  the  essential  nature  of  the  British  Dandy,  and  the  mystic 
significance  that  lies  in  him,  cannot  always  remain  hidden  under 
laughable  and  lamentable  hallucination.  The  following  long 
Extract  from  Professor  Teufelsdrockh  may  set  the  matter,  if  not 
in  its  true  light,  yet  in  the  way  towards  such.  It  is  to  be 
regretted  however  that  here,  as  so  often  elsewhere,  the  Professor's 
keen  philosophic  perspicacity  is  somewhat  marred  by  a  certain 
mixture  of  almost  owlish  purblindness,  or  else  of  some  perverse, 
ineffectual,  ironic  tendency;  our  readers  shall  judge  which: 

'  In  these  distracted  times,'  writes  he,  '  when  the  Religious 
'  Principle,  driven  out  of  most  Churches,  either  lies  unseen  in  the 
'  hearts  of  good  men,  looking  and  longing  and  silently  working 
1  there  towards  some  new  Revelation  :  or  else  wanders  homeless 
'  over  the  world,  like  a  disembodied  soul  seeking  its  terrestrial 


216  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

'  organisation, — into  how. many  strange  shapes,  of  Superstition  and 
1  Fanaticism,  does  it  not. tentatively  and  errantly  cast  itself!  The 
1  higher  Enthusiasm  of  man's  nature  is  for  the  while  without  Ex- 
1  ponent ;  yet  does  it  continue  indestructible,  unweariedly  active,  | 
'  and  work  blindly  in  the  great  chaotic  deep :  thus  Sect  after 
'  Sect,  and  Church  after  Church,  bodies  itself  forth,  and  melts 
1  again  into  new  metamorphosis. 

'  Chiefly  is  this  observable  in  England,  which,  as  the  wealthiest 
'  and  worst-instructed  of  European  nations,  offers  precisely  the- 
'  elements  (of  Heat,  namely,  and  of  Darkness),  in  which  suck. 
'  moon-calves  and  monstrosities  are  best  generated.  Among  the 
1  newer  Sects  of  that  country,  one  of  the  most  notable,  and  closely 
'  connected  with  our  present  subject,  is  that  of  the  J)aiuli.p.s  •  _gon- 
1  cerning  which,  what  little  information  I  have  been  able  to  pro- 
'  cure  may  fitly  stand  here. 

'  It  is  true,  certain  of  the  English  Journalists,  men  generally 
'without  sense  for  the  Religious  Principle,  or  judgment  for  its 
'  manifestations,  speak,  in  their  brief  enigmatic  notices,  as  if  this 
1  were  perhaps  rather  a  Secular  Sect,  and  not  a  Religious  one : 
'  nevertheless,  to  the  psychologic  eye  its  devotional  and  even 
'  sacrificial  character  plainly  enough  reveals  itself.  Whether  it 
'  belongs  to  the  class  of  Fetish-worships,  or  of  Hero-worships  or 
'  Polytheisms,  or  to  what  other  class,  may  in  the  present  state  of 
'  our  intelligence  remain  undecided  [schweben).  A  certain  touch 
1  of  Manicheism,  not  indeed  in  the  Gnostic  shape,  is  discernible 
'  enough  :  also  (for  human  Error  walks  in  a  cycle,  and  reappears 
1  at  intervals)  a  not  inconsiderable  resemblance  to  that  Supersti- 
'  tion  of  the  Athos  Monks,  who  by  fasting  from  all  nourishment, 
'  and  looking  intensely  for  a  length  of  time  into  their  own  navels, 
'came  to  discern  therein  the  true  Apocalypse  of  Nature,  and 
'  Heaven  Unveiled.  To  my  own  surmise,  it  appears  as  if  this 
'  Dandiacal  Sect  were  but  a  new  modification,  adapted  to  the  new 
'  time,  of  that  primeval  Superstition,  StJJ^JKaj^llill ;  which  Zer- 
'  dusht,  Quangfoutchee,  Mohamed,  and  others,  strove  rather  to 
'  subordinate  and  restrain  than  to  eradicate  ;  and  which  only  in 
'  the  purer  forms  of  Religion  has  been  altogether  rejected. 
'  Wherefore,  if  any  one  chooses  to  name  it  revived  Ahrimanism, 


THE   DANDIACAL  DODY.  217 


\  or  a  new  figure  of  Demon-Worshi] 
'ble,  no  objection. 

'  For  the  rest,  these  people,  animated  wrTn^HWeal  of  a  new 
1  Sect,  display  courage  and  perseverance,  and  what  force  there  is 
'  in  man's  nature,  though  never  so  enslaved.  They  affect  great 
1  purity  and  separatism  ;  distinguish  themselves  by  a  particular 
'  costume  (whereof  some  notices  were  given  in  the  earlier  part  of 
'this  Volume) ;  likewise,  so  far  as  possible,  by  a  particular  speech 
1  (apparently  some  broken  IAngua-Jmnca,  or  English-French) ; 
'  and.  on  the  whole,  strive  to  maintain  a  true  Nazarene  deport- 
'  ment,  and  keep  themselves  unspotted  from  the  world. 

'  They  have  their  Temples,  whereof  the  chief,  as  the  Jewish 
'  Temple  did,  stands  in  their  metropolis  ;  and  is  named  Almactfs, 
i  a  word  of  uncertain  etymology.  They  worship  principally  by 
'  night :  and  have  their  Highpriests  and  Highpriestesses,  who, 
'  however,  do  not  continue  for  life.  The  rites,  by  some  supposed 
'  to  be  of  the  Menadic  sort,  or  perhaps  with  an  Eleusinian  or 
'  Cabiric  character,  are  held  strictly  secret.  Nor  are  Sacred 
'Books  wanting  to  the  Sect ;  these  they  call  Fashionable  Xovels  : 
1  however,  the  Canon  is  not  completed,  and  some  are  canonical 
'  and  others  not. 

'  Of  such  Sacred  Books  I,  not  without  expense,  procured  my- 
1  self  some  samples ;  and  in  hope  of  true  insight,  and  with  the 
'  zeal  which  beseems  an  Inquirer  into  Clothes,  set  to  interpret 
1  and  study  them.  But  wholly  to  no  purpose  :  that  tough  faculty 
'  of  reading,  for  which  the  world  will  not  refuse  me  credit,  was 
'  here  for  the  first  time  foiled  and  set  at  naught  In  vain  that  I 
'  summoned  my  whole  energies  [mich  weidlich  anstrengte).  and  did 
'  my  very  utmost ;  at  the  end  of  some  short  space,  I  was  uni- 
'  formly  seized  with  not  so  much  what  I  can  call  a  drumming  in 
t  my  ears,  as  a  kind  of  infinite,  unsufferable  Jew's-harping  and 
:  scrannel-piping  there :  to  which  the  frightfulest  species  of  Mag- 
'  netic  Sleep  soon  supervened.  And  if  I  strove  to  shake  this 
'  away,  and  absolutely  would  not  yield,  came  a  hitherto  unfelt 
i  sensation,  as  of  Delirium.  Tremens,  and  a  melting  into  total  deli- 
1  quium  :  till  at  last,  by  order  of  the  Doctor,  dreading  ruin  to  my 
'  whole  intellectual  and  bodily  faculties,  and  a  general  breaking- 
'  up  of  the  constitution,  I  reluctantly  but  determinedly  forbore. 

10 


218  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 

'  Was  there  some  miracle  ^fr'work  here  ;  like  those  Fire-balls,  and 
'  supernal  and  infernal 'prodigies,  which,  in  the  case  of  the  Jewish 
'  Mysteries,  have  also  more  than  once  scared  back  the  Alien  ?  Be 
'  this  as  it  may,  such  failure  on  my  part,  after  best  efforts,  must 
'  excuse  the  imperfection  of  this  sketch  ;  altogether  incomplete, 
1  yet  the  completest  I  could  give  of  a  Sect  too  singular  to  be 
'  omitted. 

'  Loving  my  own  life  and  senses  as  I  do,  no  power  shall  induce 
'me,  as  a  private  individual,  to  open  another  Fashionable  Novel. 
'  But  luckily,  in  this  dilemma,  comes  a  hand  from  the  clouds ; 
'  whereby  if  not  victory,  deliverance  is  held  out  to  me.  Round  one 
'  of  those  Book-packages,  which  the  StiUsckweigen'sche  Buchhand- 
1  lung  is  in  the  habit  of  importing  from  England,  come,  as  is 
'  usual,  various  waste  printed-sheets  (macalatur-bldtter),  by  way  of 
'  interior  wrappage  :  into  these  the  Clothes-Philosopher,  with  a 
'  certain  Mohamedan  reverence  even  for  waste  paper,  where  curi- 
'  ous  knowledge  will  sometimes  hover,  disdains  not  to  cast  his  eye. 
'  Readers  may  judge  of  his  astonishment  when  on  such  a  defaced 
'  stray  sheet,  probably  the  outcast  fraction  of  some  English 
'  Periodical,  such  as  they  name  Magazine,  appears  something  like 
'a  Dissertation  on  this  very  subject  of  Fashionable Novels  I  It 
'  sets  out,  indeed,  chiefly  from  the  Secular  point  of  view ;  direct- 
'  ing  itself,  not  without  asperity,  against  some  to  me  unknown 
' individual,  named  Pelharfy  who  seems  to  be  a  Mystagogue.  and 
'  leading  Teacher  and  Preacher  of  the  Sect ;  so  that,  what  indeed 
'otherwise  was  not  to  be  expected  in  such  a  fugitive  fragmentary 

•  sheet,  the  true  secret,  the  Religious  physiognomy  and  physiology 
'of  the  Dandiacal  Body,  is  nowise  laid  fully  open  there.  Never- 
'  theless,  scattered  lights  do  from  time  to  time  sparkle  out,  where- 
'  by  I  have  endeavoured  to  profit.     Nay,  in  one  passage  selected 

•  from  the  Prophecies,  or  Mythic  Theogonies,  or  whatever  they 
'are  (tor  the  style  seems  very  mixed)  of  this  Mystagogue,  I  find 
'what  appears  to  be  a  Confession  of  Faith,  or  Whole  Dnty  of 

'  Man,  according  to  the  tenets  of  that  Sect.  Which  Confession 
'  or  Whole  Duty,  therefore,  as  proceeding  from  a  source  so 
'authentic,  I  shall  here  arrange  under  Seven  distinct  Articles, 
'  and  in  very  abridged  shape  lav  before  the  German  world  ;  there- 
•with  taking  leave  of  this  matter.      Observe,  also,  that   to  avoid 


TH£  DANDIACAL  BODY.  219 

'  possibility  of  error,  I,  as  far  as  may  be,  quote  literally  from  the 
1  Original : 

'articles  of  faith. 

u  1.  Coats  should  have  nothing  of  the  triangle  about  them ;  at 
'  the  same  time,  wrinkles  behind  should  be  carefully  avoided. 

"  2.  The  collar  is  a  very  important  point :  it  should  be  low  be- 
'  hind,  and  slightly  rolled. 

"  3.  No  license  of  fashion  can  allow  a  man  of  delicate  taste  to 
'  adopt  the  posterial  luxuriance  of  a  Hottentot. 

"  4.  There  is  safety  in  a  swallow-tail. 

"  5.  The  good  sense  of  a  gentleman  is  nowhere  more  finely  de- 
{  veloped  than  in  his  rings. 

"  6.  It  is  permitted  to  mankind,  under  certain  restrictions,  to 
'  wear  white  waistcoats. 

"  7.  The  trowsers  must  be  exceedingly  tight  across  the  hips." 

1  All  which  Propositions  I,  for  the  present,  content  myself  with 
'  modestly  but  peremptorily  and  irrevocably  denying. 

'  In  strange  contrast  with  this  Dandiacal  Body  stands  another 
'  British  Sect,  originally,  as  I  understand,  of  Ireland,  where  its 
1  chief  seat  still  is  ;  but  known  also  in  the  main  Island,  and  in- 
'  deed  everywhere  rapidly  spreading.  As  this  Sect  has  hitherto 
1  emitted  no  Canonical  Books,  it  remains  to  me  in  the  same  state 
J  of  obscurity  as  the  Dandiacal,  which  has  published  Books  that 
'  the  unassisted  human  faculties  are  inadequate  to  read.  The 
'  members  appear  to  be  designated  by  a  considerable  diversity  of 
'  names,  according  to  their  various  places  of  establishment :  in 
'  England  they  are  generally  called  the  Drudge  Sect ;  also,  un- 
'  philosophically  enough,  the  While  Negroes ;  and,  chiefly  in 
i  scorn  by  those  of  other  communions,  the  Ragged- Beggar  Sect. 
'  In  Scotland,  again,  I  find  them  entitled  Rallanshakers,  or  the 
'  Slook-of-Duds  Sect ;  any  individual  communicant  is  named 
'  Stook-of-Dnds  (that  is,  Shock  of  Rags),  in  allusion,  doubtless,  to 
1  their  professional  Costume.  While  in  Ireland,  which,  as  men- 
1  tioned,  is  their  grand  parent  hive,  they  go  by  a  perplexing  mul- 
'  tiplicity  of  designations,  such  as  Bogtrotters,  Redshanks,  Ribbon- 


220  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 

'  men,  Cottiers,  Pecp-of-Day  Boys,  Babes  in  the  Wood,  Rockites, 
1  Poor-Slaves  :  which  last,  however,  seems  to  be  the  primary  and 
'  generic  name  ;  whereto,  probably  enough,  the  others  are  only 
'  subsidiary  species,  or  slight  varieties  :  or,  at  most,  propagated 
1  offsets  from  the  parent  stem,  whose  minute  subdivisions,  and 
1  shades  of  difference,  it  were  here  loss  of  time  to  dwell  on. 
1  Enough  for  us  to  understand,  what  seems  indubitable,  that  the 
'  original  Sect  is  that  of  the  Poor- blares;  whose  doctrines,  practi- 
'  ces,  and  fundamental  characteristics  pervade  and  animate  the 
'  whole  Body,  howsoever  denominated  or  outwardly  diversified. 

'  The  precise  speculative  tenets  of  this  Brotherhood  :  how  the 
'  Universe,  and  the  Man,  and  Man's  Life,  picture  themselves  to 
'  the  mind  of  an  Irish  Poor-Slave  ;  with  what  feelings  and  opin- 
'  ions  he  looks  forward  on  the  Future,  round  on  the  Present,  back 
'  on  the  Past,  it  were  extremely  difficult  to  specify.  Something 
'  Monastic  there  appears  to  be  in  their  Constitution  :  we  find 
'  them  bound  by  the  two  Monastic  Vows  of  Poverty  and  Obe- 
'  dience  ;  which  Vows,  especially  the  former,  it  is  said,  they  ob- 
'  serve  with  great  strictness ;  nay.  as  I  have  understood  it,  they 
1  are  pledged,  and  be  it  by  any  solemn   Nazarene  ordination  or 

I  not,  irrevocably  consecrated  thereto,  even  before  birth.  That  the 
'  third  Monastic  Vow,  of  Chastity,  is  rigidly  enforced  among  them, 

I I  find  no  ground  to  conjecture. 

1  Furthermore,  they  appear  to  imitate  the  Dandiacal  Sect  in 
'  their  grand  principle  of  wearing  a  peculiar  Costume.  Of  which 
'  Irish  Poor-Slave  Costume  no  description  will  indeed  be  found 
'  in  the  present  Volume ;  for  this  reason,  that  by  the  imperfect 
'  organ  of  Language  it  did  not  seem  describable.  Their  raiment 
'  consists  of  innumerable  skirts,  lappets,  and  irregular  wings,  of 
1  all  cloths  and  of  all  colours  ;  through  the  labyriuthic  intricacies 
1  of  which  their  bodies  are  introduced  by  some  unknown  process. 
'  It  is  fastened  together  by  a  multiplex  combination  of  buttons, 
'  thrums,  and  skewers  ;  to  which  frequently  is  added  a  girdle  of 
'  leather,  of  hempen  or  even  of  straw  rope,  round  the  loins.  To 
'  straw  rope,  indeed,  they  seem  partial,  and  often  wear  it  by  way 
'  of  sandals.  In  head-dress  they  affect  a  certain  freedom  ;  hats 
1  with  partial  brim,  without  crown,  or  with  only  a  loose,  hinged, 
1  or  valve  crown  ;  in  the  former  case,  they  sometimes  invert  the 


THE   DANDIACAL   BODY.  221 

'  hat,  and  wear  it  brim  uppermost,  like  a  University-cap,  with 
'  what  view  is  unknown. 

'  The  name-  Poor-Slaves,  seems  to  indicate  a  Slavonic,  Polish, 
'  or  Russian  origin  :  not  so,  however,  the  interior  essence  and 
'  spirit  of  their  Superstition,  which  rather  displays  a  Teutonic  or 
'  Druidical  character.  One  might  fancy  them  worshippers  of 
'  Hertha,  or  the  Earth  :  for  they  dig  and  affectionately  work  con- 
'  tinually  in  her  bosom  ;  or  else,  shut  up  in  private  Oratories, 
'  meditate  and  manipulate  the  substances  derived  from  her ;  sel- 
1  dom  looking  up  towards  the  Heavenly  Luminaries,  and  then 
1  with  comparative  indifference.  Like  the  Druids,  on  the  other 
t  hand,  they  live  in  dark  dwellings  ;  often  even  breaking  their 
'  glass-windows,  where  they  find  such,  and  stuffing  them  up  with 
1  pieces  of  raiment,  or  other  opaque  substances,  till  the  fit  obscu- 
1  rity  is  restored.  Again,  like  all  followers  of  Nature-Worship, 
'  they  are  liable  to  outbreakings  of  an  enthusiasm  rising  to  fero- 
1  city  ;  and  burn  men,  if  not  in  wicker  idols,  yet  in  sod  cottages. 

'  In  respect  of  diet,  they  have  also  their  observances.  All 
1  Poor-Slaves  are  Rhizophagous  (or  Root-eaters) ;  a  few  are  Ich- 
'  thyophagous,  and  use  Salted  Herrings  :  other  animal  food  they 
'  abstain  from  ;  except  indeed,  with  perhaps  some  strange  invert- 
'  ed  fragment  of  a  Brahminical  feeling,  such  animals  as  die  a 
'  natural  death.  Their  universal  sustenance  is  the  root  named 
'  Potato,  cooked  by  fire  alone  ;  and  generally  without  condiment 
'  or  relish  of  any  kind,  save  an  unknown  condiment  named  Point, 
''  into  the  meaning  of  which  I  have  vainly  inquired  :  the  victual 
'  Potatoes-and- Point  not  appearing,  at  least  not  with  specific  ac- 
f  curacy  of  description,  in  any  European  Cookery-Book  whatever. 
'  For  drink  they  use,  with  an  almost  epigrammatic  counterpoise 
'  of  taste,  Milk,  which  is  the  mildest  of  liquors,  and  Potheen,  which 
'  is  the  fiercest.  This  latter  I  have  tasted,  as  well  as  the  English 
'  Blue-Ruin,  and  the  Scotch  Whisky,  analogous  fluids  used  by  the 
'  Sect  in  those  countries  :  it  evidently  contains  some  form  of  al- 
1  cohol,  in  the  highest  state  of  concentration,  though  disguised 
'  with  acrid  oils  :  and  is,  on  the  whole,  the  most  pungent  substance 
'  known  to  me, — indeed,  a  perfect  liquid  fire.  In  all  their  Reli- 
'  gious  Solemnities,  Potheen  is  said  to  be  an  indispensable  requi- 
'  site,  and  largely  consumed. 


222  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 

'  An  Irish  Traveller,  of  perhaps  common  veracity,  who  presents 
<  himself  under  the  to  me  unmeaning  title  of  The  late  John  Ber- 
'  nard,  offers  the  following  sketch  of  a  domestic  establishment,  the 
'  inmates  whereof,  though  such  is  not  stated  expressly,  appear  to 
'  have  been  of  that  Faith.  Thereby  shall  my  German  readers 
'  now  behold  an  Irish  Poor-Slave,  as  it  were  with  their  own  eyes ; 
'  and  even  see  him  at  meat.  Moreover,  in  the  so  precious  waste* 
'  paper  sheet,  above  mentioned,  I  have  found  some  corresponding 
1  picture  of  a  Dandiacal  Household,  painted  by  that  same  Dandi- 
'  acal  Mystagogue,  or  Theogonist :  this  also,  by  way  of  counterpart 
;  and  contrast,  the  world  shall  look  into. 

'  First,  therefore,  of  the  Poor-Slave,  who  appears  likewise  to 
'  have  been  a  species  of  Innkeeper.  I  quote  from  the  original : 
'  u  The  furniture  of  this  Caravansera  consisted  of  a  large  iron 
'  Pot,  two  oaken  Tables,  two  Benches,  two  Chairs,  and  a  Potheen 
'  Noggin.  There  was  a  Loft  above  (attainable  by  a  ladder),  upon 
'  which  the  inmates  slept ;  and  the  space  below  was  divided  by  a 
'  hurdle  into  two  Apartments  ;  the  one  for  their  cow  and  pig,  the 
'  other  for  themselves  and  guests.  On  entering  the  house  we 
*  discovered  the  family,  eleven  in  number,  at  dinner  ;  the  father 
1  sitting  at  the  top,  the  mother  at  bottom,  the  children  on  each 
'  side  of  a  large  oaken  Board  which  was  scooped  out  in  the  mid- 
'  die,  like  a  Trough,  to  receive  the  contents  of  their  Pot  of  Pota- 
'  toes.  Little  holes  were  cut  at  equal  distances  to  contain  Salt ; 
'  and  a  bowl  of  Milk  stood  on  the  table  :  all  the  luxuries  of  meat 
'  and  beer,  bread,  knives,  and  dishes  were  dispensed  with."  The 
'  Poor-Slave  himself  our  Traveller  found,  as  he  Bays,  broad-backed. 
'black-browed,  of  great  personal  strength,  and  mouth  from  ear  to 
1  car.  His  Wife  was  a  sun-browned  but  well-featured  woman  ; 
'and  his  young  ones,  bare  and  chubby,  had  the  appetite  of  ravens, 
'  Of  their  Philosophical,  or  lleligious  tenets  or  observances,  no 
'  notice  or  hint. 

'  But  now,  secondly,  of  the  Dandiacal  Household  ;  in  which, 
'  truly,  that  often-mentioned  Mystagogue  and  inspired  Penman 
'  himself  has  his  abode  :  "  A  Dressing-room  splendidly  furnished  ; 
'  violet-coloured  curtains,  chairs  and  ottomans  of  the  same  hue. 
'  Two  full-length  Mirrors  are  placed,  one  on  each  side  of  a  table, 
1  which  supports  the  luxuries  of  the  Toilet.     Several  Bottles  of 


THE  DANDIACAL  BODY.  223 

1  Perfumes,  arranged  in  a  peculiar  fashion,  stand  upon  a  smaller 
'  table  of  mother-of-pearl :  opposite  to  these  are  placed  the  appur- 
'  tenances  of  Lavation  richly  wrought  in  frosted  silver.  A  Ward- 
'  robe  of  Buhl  is  on  the  left ;  the  doors  of  which  being  partly 
'  open  discover  a  profusion  of  Clothes  ;  Shoes  of  a  singularly  small 
'  size  monopolise  the  lower  shelves.  Fronting  the  wardrobe  a 
'  door  ajar  gives  some  slight  glimpse  of  a  Bath-room.  Folding- 
'  doors  in  the  back-ground. — Enter  the  Author,"  our  Theogonist 
1  in  person,  "  obsequiously  preceded  by  a  French  Valet,  in  white 
'  silk  Jacket  and  cambric  Apron." 

[  SuchjysUkh&JtaJito  the 

1  more  unsettled  portion  of  the  British  People . ;  and  agitate  that 
'  eyer-yexed^  country.  To  the  eye  of  the  political  Seer,  their  niu- 
'  tual  relation,  pregnant  with  the  elements  of  discord  and  hostil- 
'  ity.  is  far  from  consoling.  These  two  principles  of  Dandiacal 
1  Self-worship  or  Demon-worship,  and  Poor-Slavish  or  Drudgical 
1  Earth-worship,  or  whatever  that  same  Drudgism  may  be,  do  as 
'  yet  indeed  manifest  themselves  under  distant  and  nowise  con- 
'  siderable  shapes  :  nevertheless,  in  their  roots  and  subterranean 
'  ramifications,  they  extend  through  the  entire  structure  of  Soci- 
'  ety,  and  work  unweariedly  in  the  secret  depths  of  English  na- 
'  tional  Existence  ;  striving  to  separate  and  isolate  it  into  two 
'  contradictory,  uncommunicating  masses. 

'  In  numbers,  and  even  individual  strength,  the  Poor-Slaves  or 
1  Drudges,  it  would  seem,  are  hourly  increasing.  The  Dandiacal, 
'  again,  is  by  nature  no  proselytising  Sect ;  but  it  boasts  of  great 
1  hereditary  resources,  and  is  strong  by  union  ;  whereas  the 
'  Drudges,  split  into  parties,  have  as  yet  no  rallying-point ;  or  at 
'  best,  only  co-operate  by  means  of  partial  secret  affiliations.  If, 
1  indeed,  there  were  to  arise  a  Communion  of  Drudges,  as  there  is 
1  already  a  Communion  of  Saints,  what  strangest  effects  would 
'  follow  therefrom  !  Dandyism  as  yet  affects  to  look  down  on 
'Drudgism:  but  perhaps, the  hour  of  trial,  when  it  wilL.be  prac- 
1  ticaljy  seen  which  ought  to  look  down,  and  which  up,  is  not  so 
1  distant.  t 

1  To  me  it  seems  probable  that  the  two  Sects  will  one  day  part 
'  England  between  them  ;  each  recruiting  itself  from  the  inter- 


224  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


'  mediate  ranks,  till  there  be  none  left  to  enlist  on  either  side. 
;  Th'ise  Dandiacal  Manieheans.  with  the  host  of  Dandyising 
1  Christians,  will  form  one  body  :  the  Drudges,  gathering  round 
1  tbjem  whosoever  is  Drudgical,  be  he  Christian  or  Infidel  Pagan  ; 
1  sweeping  up  likewise  all  manner  of  Utilitarians,  Radicals,  re- 
'  fractory  Potwalloppers,  and  so  forth,  into  their  general  mass, 
'  will  form  another.  I  could  liken  Dandyism  and  Drudgism  to 
1  two  bottomless  boiling  Whirlpools  that  had  broken  out  on  oppo- 
'  site  quarters  of  the  firm  land :  as  yet  they  appear  only  disqui- 
'  eted,  foolishly  bubbling  wells,  which  man's  art  might  cover  in  ; 
'  yet  mark  them,  their  diameter  is  daily  widening  ;  they  arc  hol- 
'  low  Cones  that  boil  up  from  the  infinite  Deep,  over  which  your 
1  firm  land  is  but  a  thin  crust  or  rind  !  Thus  daily  is  the  inter- 
1  mediate  land  crumbling  in,  daily  the  empire  of  the  two  Buchan- 
'  Bullers  extending  ;  till  now  there  is  but  a  foot-plank,  a  mere 
'  film  of  Land  between  them  ;  this  too  is  washed  away  ;  and  then 
1  — we  have  the  true  Hell  of  Waters,  and  Noah's  Deluge  is  out- 
'  deluged  ! 

'  Or  better,  I  might  call  them  two  boundless,  and  indeed  unex- 
'ampled  Electric  Machines  (turned  by  the  "Machinery  of  Soci- 
'  ety,"),  with  batteries  of  opposite  quality  ;  Drudgism  the  Nega- 
'  tive,  Dandyism  the  Positive  :  one  attracts  hourly  towards  it  and 
'  appropriates  all  the  Positive  Electricity  of  the  Nation  (namely, 
'  the  Money  thereof) ;  the  other  is  equally  busy  with  the  Negative 
'  (that  is  to  say  the  Hunger),  which  is  equally  potent.  Hitherto 
'  you  see  only  partial  transient  sparkles  and  sputters  ;  but  wait  a 
'  little,  till  the  entire  nation  is  in  an  electric  state  :  till  your  whole 
*  vital  Electricity,  no  longer  healthfully  Neutral,  is  cut  into  two 
'  isolated  portions  of  Positive  and  Negative  (of  Money  and  of 
'  Sanger);  and  stands  there  bottled  ap  in  two  World-Batteries] 
'  The  stirring  of  a  child's  finger  brings  the  two  together  :  and 
'  then — What  then?  The  Earth  is  but  shivered  into  impalpable 
'  smoke  by  that  Doom's-thunderpeal  ;  the  Sun  misses  one  of  his 
1  Planets  in  Space,  and  thenceforth  there  are  no  eclipses  of  the 
'  Moon. — Or  better  .still.  1  might  liken' 

Oh!  enough,  enough  of  likenings  and  similitudes;  in  excess  of 
which,  truly,  it  is  hard  to  say  whether  Teufelsdrockh  or  ourselves 
sin  the  more. 


THE   DANDIACAL  BODY.  225 

We  have  often  blamed  him  for  a  habit  of  wire-drawing  and 
over-refining :  from  of  old  we  have  been  familiar  with  his  ten- 
dency to  Mysticism  and  Religiosity,  whereby  in  every  thing  he 
was  still  scenting  out  Religion :  but  never  perhaps  did  these 
amaurosis-suffusions  so  cloud  and  distort  his  otherwise  most 
piercing  vision,  as  in  this  of  the  Dandiacal  Body!  Or  was  there 
something  of  intended  satire  :  is  the  Professor  and  Seer  not  quite 
the  blinkard  he  affects  to  be  ?  Of  an  ordinary  mortal  we  should 
have  decisively  answered  in  the  affirmative ;  but  with  a  Teufels- 
drockh  there  ever  hovers  some  shade  of  doubt.  In  the  mean- 
while, if  satire  were  actually  intended,  the  case  is  little  better. 
There  are  not  wanting  men  who  will  answer  :  Does  your  Profes- 
sor take  us  for  simpletons  %  His  irony  has  overshot  itself ;  we 
sot  \hrough  it,  and  perhaps  through  him. 

11* 


226  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

TAILORS. 

Thus,  however,  has  our  first  Practical  Inference  from  the 
Clothes-Philosophy,  that  which  respects  Dandies,  been  sufficiently 
drawn  ;  and  we  come  now  to  the  second,  concerning  Tailors.  On 
this  latter  our  opinion  happily  quite  coincides  with  that  of  Teu- 
felsdrockh  himself,  as  expressed  in  the  concluding  page  of  his 
Volume ;  to  whom  therefore  we  willingly  give  place.  Let  him 
speak  his  own  last  words,  in  his  own  way : 

'  Upwards  of  a  century,'  says  he,  '  must  elapse,  and  still  the 
'  bleeding  fight  of  Freedom  be  fought,  whoso  is  noblest  perishing 
'  in  the  van,  and  thrones  be  hurled  on  altars  like  Pelion  on  Ossa, 
'  and  the  Moloch  of  Iniquity  have  his  victims,  and  the  Michael  of 
'  Justice  his  martyrs,  before  Tailors  can  be  admitted  to  their  true 
1  prerogatives  of  manhood,  and  this  last  wound  of  suffering  Hu- 
1  manity  be  closed. 

'  If  aught  in  the  history  of  the  world's  blindness  could  surprise 
'  us,  here  might  we  indeed  pause  and  wonder.  An  idea  has  gone 
'  abroad,  and  fixed  itself  down  into  a  wide-spreading  rooted  error, 
'  that  Tailors  are  a  distinct  species  in  Physiology,  not  Men,  but 
'but  fractional  Parts  of  a  Man.  Call  any  one  a  Schneider  (Cut. 
'  ter,  Tailor),  is  it  not,  in  our  dislocated,  hoodwinked,  and  indeed 
'delirious  condition  of  Society,  equivalent  to  defying  his  per- 
'  petual  fellest  enmity  ?  The  epithet  Schneidermdssig  (Tailor-like) 
'  betokens  an  otherwise  unapproachable  degree  of  pusillanimity : 
'we  introduce  a  Tailor's-Mela  nr  holy,  more  opprobrious  than  any 
'  Leprosy,  into  our  Books  of  Medicine ;  and  fable  I  know  not 
'  what  of  his  generating  it  by  living  on  Cabbage.  Why  should  I 
'speak  of  Hans  Sachs  (himself  a  Shoemaker,  or  kind  of  Leather- 
'  Tailor),  with  his  Schneider  mit  dem  Panic r?     Why  of  Shak- 


TAILORS.  227 


'  speare,  in  his  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  and  elsewhere?  Does  it  not 
'  stand  on  record  that  the  English  Queen  Elizabeth,  receiving  a 
'  deputation  of  Eighteen  Tailors,  addressed  them  with  a  "Good 
;  morning,  gentlemen  both  !"  Did  not  the  same  virago  boast  that 
1  she  had  a  Cavalry  Regiment,  whereof  neither  horse  nor  man 
1  could  be  injured :  her  Regiment,  namely,  of  Tailors  on  Mares  ? 
'  Thus  everywhere  is  the  falsehood  taken  for  granted,  and  acted 
'  on  as  an  indisputable  fact. 

'  Nevertheless,  need  I  put  the  question  to  any  Physiologist, 
1  whether  it  is  disputable  or  not  ?  Seems  it  not  at  least  presuma-. 
[  ble,  that,  under  his  Clothes,  the  Tailor  has  bones,  and  viscera, 
'  and  other  muscles  than  the  sartorius  ?  Which  function  of  man- 
'hood  is  the  Tailor  not  conjectured  to  perform?  Can  he  not 
1  arrest  for  debt  ?  Is  he  not  in  most  countries  a  tax-paying 
'  animal  ? 

1  To  no  reader  of  this  Volume  can  it  be  doubtful  which  convic- 
'  tion  is  mine.  Nay,  if  the  fruit  of  these  long  vigils,  and  almost 
'  preternatural  Inquiries  is  not  to  perish  utterly,  the  world  will 
'  have  approximated  towards  a  higher  Truth ;  and  the  doctrine, 
'  which  Swift,  with  the  keen  forecast  of  genius,  dimly  anticipated, 
{  will  stand  revealed  in  clear  light :  that  the  Tailor  is  not  only  a 
'  Man,  but  something  of  a  Creator  or  Divinity.  Of  Franklin  it 
was  said,  that  -:  he  snatched  the  Thunder  from  Heaven  and  the 
Sceptre  from  Kings:'1  but  which  is  greater,  I  would  ask,  he  that 
'  lends,  or  he  that  snatches  ?  For,  looking  away  from  individual 
cases,  and  how  a  Man  is  by  the  Tailor  new-created  into  a  Noble- 
'  man,  and  clothed  not  only  with  Wool  but  with  Dignity  and  a 
1  Mystic  Dominion, — is  not  the  fair  fabric  of  Society  itself,  with 
1  all  its  royal  mantles  and  pontifical  stoles,  whereby,  from  naked- 
'  ness  and  dismemberment,  we  are  organised  into  Polities,  into 
'  nations,  and  a  whole  co-operating  Mankind,  the  creation,  as  has 
'  here  been  often  irrefragably  evinced,  of  the  Tailor  alone? — 
'  What  too  are  all  Poets,  and  moral  Teachers,  but  a  species  of 
'  Metaphorical  Tailors  ?  Touching  which  high  Guild  the  great- 
'  est  living  Guild-brother  has  triumphantly  asked  us :  "  Nay,  if 
'  thou  wilt  have  it,  who  but  the  Poet  first  made  Gods  for  men  ; 
'  brought  them  down  to  us  ;  and  raised  us  up  to  them  V1 

'  And  this  is  he,  whom  sitting  downcast,  on  the  hard  basis  of 


228  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 

'  Lis  Shopboard,  the  world  treats  with  contumely,  as  the  ninth 
1  part  of  a  man  !  Look  up,  thou  much-injured  one,  look  up  with 
1  the  kindling  eye  of  hope,  and  prophetic  codings  of  a  nobler  bet- 
'  ter  time.  Too  long  hast  thou  sat  there,  on  crossed  legs,  wearing 
'  thy  ancle-joints  to  horn  ;  like  some  sacred  Anchorite,  or  Catholic 
'  Fakir,  doing  penance,  drawing  down  Heaven's  richest  blessings, 
'  for  a  world  that  scoffed  at  thee.  Be  of  hope  !  Already  streaks 
'  of  blue  peer  through  our  clouds  ;  the  thick  gloom  of  Ignorance 
'  is  rolling  asunder,  and  it  will  be  day.  Mankind  will  repay  with 
'  interest  their  long-accumulated  debt :  the  Anchorite  that  was 
'  scoffed  at  will  be  worshipped  ;  the  Fraction  will  become  not  an 
'  Integer  only,  but  a  Square  and  Cube.  With  astonishment  the 
'  world  will  recognise  that  the  Tailor  is  its  Hierophant,  and  Hier- 
'  arch,  or  even  its  God. 

'  As  I  stood  in  the  Mosque  of  St.  Sophia,  and  looked  upon  these 
'  Four-and-Twenty  Tailors,  sewing  and  embroidering  that  rich 
'  Cloth,  which  the  Sultan  sends  yearly  for  the  Caaba  of  Mecca,  I 
'  thought  within  myself:  How  many  other  Unholies  has  your 
'  covering  Art  made  holy,  besides  this  Arabian  Whinstone ! 

'  Still  more  touching  was  it  when,  turning  the  corner  of  a  lane, 
'  in  the  Scottish  Town  of  Edinburgh,  I  came  upon  a  Signpost, 
'  whereon  stood  written  that  such  and  such  a  one  was  ':  Breeches- 
'  Maker  to  his  Majesty  ;"  and  stood  painted  the  Effigies  of  a  Pair 
'of  Leather  Breeches,  and  between  the  knees  these  memorable 
*words/Si<  inn  ah  ASTRA.  Was  not  this  the  martyr  prison- 
1  speech  of  a  Tailor  sighing  indeed  in  bonds,  yet  sighing  towards 
'deliverance;  and  prophetically  appealing  to  a  better  day  ?  A 
'  day  of  justice,  when  the  worth  of  Breeches  would  be  revealed  to 
'  man,  and  the  Scissors  become  for  ever  venerable. 

'  Neither,  perhaps,  may  I  new  say.  lias  his  appeal  been  altoge- 
'  ther  in  vain.  It  was  in  this  high  moment,  when  the  soul,  rent. 
'as  it  were,  and  shed  asunder,  is  open  to  inspiring  influence,  that 
'  I  first  conceived  this  Work  on  Clothes:  the  greatest  I  can  ever 
'  hope  to  do  ;  which  has  already,  after  Long  retardations,  occupied, 
'  and  will  yet  occupy,  so  large  a  section  of  my  Life  ;  and  of  which 
;  the  Primary  and  simpler  Portion  may  here  find  its  conclusion.' 


FAREWELL.  229 


CHAPTER    XII. 

FAREWELL. 

So  have  we  endeavoured,  from  the  enormous,  amorphous  Plum- 
pudding,  more  like  a  Scottish  Haggis,  which  Herr  Teufelsdrockh 
had  kneaded  for  his  fellow  mortals,  to  pick  out  the  choicest 
Plums,  and  present  them  separately  on  a  cover  of  our  own.  A 
laborious,  perhaps  a  thankless  enterprise  ;  in  which,  however, 
something  of  hope  has  occasionally  cheered  us,  and  of  which  we 
can  now  wash  our  hands  not  altogether  without  satisfaction.  If 
hereby,  though  in  barbaric  wise,  some  morsel  of  spiritual  nourish- 
ment have  been  added  to  the  scanty  ration  of  our  beloved  British 
world,  what  nobler  recompense  could  the  Editor  desire  ?  If  it 
prove  otherwise,  why  should  he  murmur  ?  Was  not  this  a  Task 
which  Destiny,  in  any  case,  had  appointed  him  ;  which  having 
now  done  with,  he  sees  his  general  Day's-work  so  much  the  lighter, 
so  much  the  shorter  ? 

Of  Professor  Teufelsdrockh  it  seems  impossible  to  take  leave 
without  a  mingled  feeling  of  astonishment,  gratitude  and  disap- 
proval. Who  will  not  regret  that  talents,  which  might  have 
profited  in  the  higher  walks  of  Philosophy,  or  in  Art  itself,  have 
been  so  much  devoted  to  a  rummaging  among  lumber-rooms ; 
nay,  too  often  to  a  scraping  in  kennels,  where  lost  rings  and  dia- 
mond-necklaces are  nowise  the  sole  conquests  ?  Regret  is  una- 
voidable ;  yet  censure  were  loss  of  time.  To  cure  him  of  his  mad 
humours  British  Criticism  would  essay  in  vain  :  enough  for  her 
if  she  can,  by  vigilance,  prevent  the  spreading  of  such  among  our- 
selves. What  a  result,  should  this  piebald,  entangled,  hyper-met- 
aphorical style  of  writing,  not  to  say  of  thinking,  become  general 
among  our  Literary  men  !  As  it  might  so  easily  do.  Thus  has 
not  the  Editor  himself,  working  over  Teufelsdrockh's  German, 


230  SARTOR   RESARTUS. 


lost  much  of  his  own  English  purity?  Even  as  the  smaller 
whirlpool  is  sucked  into  the  larger,  and  made  to  whirl  along  with 
it,  so  has  the  lesser  mind,  in  this  instance,  been  forced  to  become 
portion  of  the  greater,  and,  like  it,  see  all  things  figuratively : 
which  habit  time  and  assiduous  effort  will  be  needed  to  eradicate. 

Nevertheless,  wayward  as  our  Professor  shews  himself,  is  there 
any  reader  that  can  part  with  him  in  declared  enmity  ?  Let  us 
confess,  there  is  that  in  the  wild,  much-suffering,  much-inflicting 
man,  which  almost  attaches  us.  His  attitude,  we  will  hope  and 
believe,  is  that  of  a  man  who  had  said  to  Cant,  Begone ;  and  to 
Dilettantism,  Here  thou  canst  not  be :  and  to  Truth,  Be  thou  in 
place  of  all  to  me :  a  man  who  had  manfully  defied  the  '  Time- 
Prince,'  or  Devil,  to  his  face ;  nay,  perhaps,  Hannibal-like,  was 
mysteriously  consecrated  from  birth  to  that  warfare,  and  now 
stood  minded  to  wage  the  same,  by  all  weapons,  in  all  places,  at 
all  times.  In  such  a  cause,  any  soldier,  were  he  but  a  Polack 
Scytheman,  shall  be  welcome. 

Still  the  question  returns  on  us :  How  could  a  man  occasion- 
ally of  keen  insight,  not  without  keen  sense  of  propriety,  who  had 
real  Thoughts  to  communicate,  resolve  to  emit  them  in  a  shape 
bordering  so  closely  on  the  absurd  ?  Which  question  he  were 
wiser  than  the  present  Editor  who  should  satisfactorily  answer. 
Our  conjecture  has  sometimes  been,  that  perhaps  Necessity  as 
well  as  Choice  was  concerned  in  it.  Seems  it  not  conceivable 
that,  in  a  Life  like  our  Professor's,  where  so  much  bountifully 
given  by  Nature  had  in  Practice  failed  and  misgone,  Literature 
also  would  never  rightly  prosper:  that  striving  with  his  charac- 
teristic vehemence  to  paint  this  and  the  other  Picture,  and  ever 
without  success,  he  at  last  desperately  dashes  his  sponge,  full  of 
all  colours,  against  the  canvass,  to  try  whether  it  will  paint  Foam? 
With  all  his  stillness,  there  were  perhaps  in  Teufelsdrockh  des- 
peration enough  for  this. 

A  second  conjecture  we  hazard  with  even  less  warranty.  It  is 
that  Teufelsdrockh  is  not  without  some  touch  of  the  universal 
feeling,  a  wish  to  proselytise.  How  often  already  have  we  paused, 
uncertain  whether  the  basis  of  this  so  enigmatic  nature  were 
really  Stoicism  and  Despair,  or  Love  and  Hope  only  seared  into 
the  figure  of  these  !   Remarkable,  moreover,  is  this  saying  of  his  : 


FAREWELL.  231 


1  How  were  Friendship  possible  9  In  mutual  devotedness  to  the 
1  Good  and  True  :  otherwise  impossible ;  except  as  Armed  Neu- 
'  trality,  or  hollow  Commercial  League.  A  man,  be  the  Heavens 
'  ever  praised,  is  sufficient  for  himself ;  yet  were  ten  men,  united 
'  in  Love,  capable  of  being  and  of  doing  what  ten  thousand  sin- 
'gly  would  fail  in.  Infinite  is  the  help  man  can  yield  to  man.' 
And  now  in  conjunction  therewith  consider  this  other  :  '  It  is  the 
'Night  of  the  World,  and  still  long  till  it  be  Day:  we  wander 
'  amid  the  glimmer  of  smoking  ruins,  and  the  Sun  and  the  Stars 
'of  Heaven  are  as  if  blotted  out  for  a  season;  and  two  immeas- 
'urable  Fantoms,  Hypocrisy  and  Atheism,  with  the  Gowle, 
'  Sensuality,  stalk  abroad  over  the  Earth,  and  call  it  theirs : 
'  well  at  ease  are  the  Sleepers  for  whom  Existence  is  a  shallow 
'Dream.' 

But  what  of  the  awestruck  Wakeful  who  find  it  a  Reality  % 
Should  not  these  unite  ;  since  even  an  authentic  Spectre  is  not 
visible  to  Two  1 — In  which  case  were  this  enormous  Clothes- Vol- 
ume properly  an  enormous  Pitchpan,  which  our  Teufelsdrockh 
in  his  lone  watchtower  had  kindled,  that  it  might  flame  far  and 
wide  through  the  Night,  and  many  a  disconsolately  wandering 
spirit  be  guided  thither  to  a  Brother's  bosom ! — We  say  as  be- 
fore, with  all  his  malign  Indifference,  who  knows  what  mad  Hopes 
this  man  may  harbour  ? 

Meanwhile  there  is  one  fact  to  be  stated  here,  which  harmon- 
ises ill  with  such  conjecture  ;  and,  indeed,  were  Teufelsdrockh 
made  like  other  men,  might  as  good  as  altogether  subvert  it. 
Namely,  that  while  the  Beacon-fire  blazed  its  brightest,  the 
Watchman  had  quitted  it ;  that  no  pilgrim  could  now  ask  him  : 
Watchman,  what  of  the  Night  ?  Professor  Teufelsdrockh,  be  it 
known,  is  no  longer  visibly  present  at  Weissnichtwo,  but  again  to 
all  appearance  lost  in  Space  !  Some  time  ago,  the  Hofrath  Heu- 
schrecke  was  pleased  to  favour  us  with  another  copious  Epistle ; 
wherein  much  is  said  about  the  '  Population-Institute  ;'  much  re- 
peated in  praise  of  the  Paperbag  Documents,  the  hieroglyphic 
nature  of  which  our  Hofrath  still  seems  not  to  have  surmised  ; 
and,  lastly,  the  strangest  occurrence  communicated,  to  us  for  the 
first  time,  in  the  following  paragraph  : 

^Ew.  Wohlgebohren  will  have  seen,  from  the  public  Prints,  with 


232  SARTOR  RESARTUS. 


'  what  affectionate  and  hitherto  fruitless  solicitude  Weissnichtwo 
i  regards  the  disappearance  of  her  Sage.  Might  but  the  united 
'  voice  of  Germany  prevail  on  him  to  return  ;  nay,  could  we  but 
'  so  much  as  elucidate  for  ourselves  by  what  mystery  he  went 
'  away  !  But,  alas,  old  Leischen  experiences  or  affects  the  pro- 
1  foundest  deafness,  the  profoundest  ignorance  :  in  the  Wahn- 
1  gasse  all  lies  swept,  silent,  sealed  up  ;  the  Privy  Council  itself 
;  can  hitherto  elicit  no  answer. 

•  It  had  been  remarked  that  while  the  agitating  news  of  those 
'  Parisian  Three  Days  flew  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  dinned 
'  every  ear  in  Weissnichtwo,  Herr  Teufelsdrockh  was  not  known, 
'  at  the  Ganse  or  elsewhere,  to  have  spoken,  for  a  whole  week, 
<  any  syllable  except  once  these  three  :  Es  geht  an  (It  is  begin- 
'  ning).  Shortly  after,  as  Eic.  Wohlgebohren  knows,  was  the  pub- 
'  lie  tranquillity  here,  as  in  Berlin,  threatened  by  a  Sedition  of 
1  the  Tailors.  For  did  there  want  Evil-wishers,  or  perhaps  mere 
'  desperate  Alarmist,  who  asserted  that  the  closing  Chapter  of 
'  the  Clothes- Volume  was  to  blame.  In  this  appalling  crisis,  the 
'  serenity  of  our  Philosopher  was  indescribable  :  nay,  perhaps, 
'  through  one  humble  individual,  something  thereof  might  pass 
'  into  the  Rath  (Council)  itself,  and  so  contribute  to  the  country's 
1  deliverance.  The  Tailors  are  now  entirely  pacificated. — To  nei- 
'  ther  of  these  two  incidents  can  I  attribute  our  loss  :  yet  still 
'  comes  there  the  shadow  of  a  suspicion  out  of  Paris  and  its  Pol- 
'  itics.  For  example,  when  the  Saint-Stmoiiian  Society  transmit- 
'  ted  its  Propositions  hither,  and  the  whole  Ganse  was  one  vast 
'  cackle  of  laughter,  lamentation,  and  astonishment,  our  Sage  sat 
'  mute  ;  and  at  the  end  of  the  third  evening,  said  merely :  "  Here 
1  also  are  men  who  have  discovered,  not  without  amazement,  that 
'  Man  is  still  Man  :  of  which  high,  long-forgotten  Truth  you  al- 
'  ready  see  them  make  a  false  application."  Since  then,  as  has 
'  been  ascertained  by  examination  of  the  Post-Director,  there 
'  passed  at  least  one  Letter  with  its  Answer  between  the  Mes- 
'  sieurs  Bazard-Enfantin  and  our  Professor  himself;  of  what 
'  tenor  can  now  only  be  conjectured.  On  the  fifth  night  follow- 
'  ingj  he  was  seen  for  the  last  time  ! 

1  Has  this  invaluable  man,  so  obnoxious  to  most  of  the  hostile 
'  Sects  that  convulse  our  Era,  been  spirited  away  by  certain  of 


• 


FAREWELL.  233 


1  their  emissaries  ;  or  did  he  go  forth  voluntarily  to  their  head- 
'  quarters  to  confer  with  them,  and  confront  them  ?  Reason 
'  we  have,  at  least  of  a  negative  sort,  to  believe  the  Lost  still 
'  living :  our  widowed  heart  also  whispers  that  ere  long  he  will 
'himself  give  a  sign.  Otherwise,  indeed,  must  his  archives,  one 
'  day,  be  opened  by  Authority ;  where  much,  perhaps  the  Pal'm- 
'  geacsie  itself,  is  thought  to  be  reposited.' 

Thus  far  the  Hofrath  ;  who  vanishes,  as  is  his  wont,  too  like  an 
Ignis  Fatuus,  leaving  the  dark  still  darker. 

So  that  Teufelsdrockh's  public  History  were  not  done,  then,  or 
reduced  to  an  even,  unromantic  tenor ;  nay,  perhaps,  the  better 
part  thereof  were  only  beginning?  We  stand  in  a  region  of 
conjectures,  where  substance  has  melted  into  shadow,  and  one 
cannot  be  distinguished  from  the  other.  May  Time,  which  solves 
or  suppresses  all  problems,  throw  glad  light  on  this  also  !  Our 
own  private  conjecture,  now  amounting  almost  to  certainty,  is 
that,  safe-moored  in  some  stillest  obscurity,  not  to  lie  always 
still,  Teufelsdrockh  is  actually  in  London ! 

Here,  however,  can  the  present  Editor,  with  an  ambrosial  joy 
as  of  over-weariness  falling  into  sleep,  lay  down  his  pen.  Well 
does  he  know,  if  human  testimony  be  worth  aught,  that  to  innu- 
merable British  readers  likewise,  this  is  a  satisfying  consummation ; 
that  innumerable  British  readers  consider  him,  during  these  cur- 
rent months,  but  as  an  uneasy  interruption  to  their  ways  of 
thought  and  digestion  ;  and  indicate  so  much,  not  without  a  cer- 
tain irritancy  and  even  spoken  invective.  For  which,  as  for  other 
mercies,  ought  he  not  to  thank  the  Upper  Powers  ?  To  one  and 
all  of  you,  0  irritated  readers,  he,  with  outstretched  arms  and 
open  heart,  will  wave  a  kind  farewell.  Thou  too,  miraculous  Enti- 
ty, who  namest  thyself  Yorke  and  0 Liver,  and  with  thy  vivacities 
and  genialities,  with  thy  all  too  Irish  mirth  and  madness,  and 
odour  of  palled  punch,  makest  such  strange  work,  farewell ;  long 
as  thou  canst,  f&Te-well !  Have  we  not,  in  the  course  of  Eternity, 
travelled  some  months  of  our  Life-journey  in  partial  sight  of  one 
another ;  have  we  not  existed  together,  though  in  a  state  of 
quarrel  1 


r«~ 


RETURN  HUMANITIES  GRADUATE  SERVICE 

TO—^  150  Main  Library                  642-4481 

LOAN  PERIOD  1 
1  DAY 

2 

3 

4  r     ■  • 

5 

6 

RESERVE 

Books  are  OVERDUE  if  not  returned  or  renewed  by  the  HOUR  (where  indicated) 
2  HOUR  books  may  not  be  renewed  by  telephone.  Return  only  to  HGS. 

DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 

$0>?O'88-4PM 

OCTl    '88 -4  P 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELEY 
FORM  NO.  DD17A,  7m    3/78          BERKELEY,  CA  94720 

GENERAL  LIBRARY  -  U.C.  BERKELEY 


B0D0S32Sm 


;<x 


%  r- 


m, 


UNIVERSITY  OF 


cpS^t)RNIA 


LIBRARY 


I 


*r5 


■xT 


\      ) 


